m which the suction-pipe of the engine drew its supply, and as he
spoke he widened the perennial grin which dwelt upon his puckered face.

"Do un good," growled Joey, who was directing the spray from the branch
so as to spread it over as many leaves as possible. "Make un teetotal,
Smiler."

"Ha, ha!" chuckled the man with the buckets; "deal o' teetotal about
you, Joey. Make yale taste, though, won't it?"

"Na-a-a-ay! Rain'll wash it all off in no time, Smiler. There, fetch
some more."

"All very fine, Joey; but its wa-arm down here. Wind don't come."

"Well, who wants wind to knock the poles down?--best lewed garden, this,
on the fa-arm. Fatch some more!"

Smiler, as he was called, went off with his empty buckets, trudged back
to the copper and water-barrel, justifying his name at every step; for
he smiled at the clods of earth, the weeds which had sprung up, at the
poles, and then at the horse in the shafts of the water-barrel cart,
before refilling his buckets and starting back down a fresh row of hops,
between which the sun came glinting and sending shafts of silver arrows
to the rich soil, out of which peeped wool clippings, shoddy, greasy
rags, and other indescribable rubbish used by the farmer to fertilise
his field.

When abreast of the engine, hidden from him by three or four rows of
poles, Smiler set down his pails with a clank, smiled round him, and
wiped his wet brow with one bare arm, then the other side in the same
way, the operation being so satisfactory that he continued it all over
his face. Then, smiling more than ever, he stooped, picked up his
buckets, went on a few yards to where there was an opening into the next
row, turned himself edgewise, and passed through with his buckets swung
round, and was about to pass through into another green arcade, but
stopped, smiling still, and put down his load once more with a louder
rattle of the handles, while _clank clank_ went the engine and _whish
whish_ and _sputter_ the cloud of spray among the leaves.

"Now then, Smiler, come on!" shouted one of the men with the engine,
still hidden, but close at hand.

"Hi! Joey," shouted Smiler.

"What's the matter?--found a hop-dog?"

"Nay! Here's a tipsy swaddy lying dead asleep; shall I gi'e him a
bucket o' hop-wash?"

"Gahn! Bring that stuff."

"But I tell ye he's tipsy, boy. Come, all on yer, and see!"

The clanking of the engine stopped at once, for it was very hot there,
and the divers