and learn to make allowances, and "put up with" things that were not
quite to my mind. So I went back, and partly because of my efforts to
be less easily annoyed, and partly because I was older than at his
latest visit, and knew all the riddles, and could see through his
jokes more quickly, I got on very well with him.

Very glad I was afterwards that I had gone back and spent a friendly
evening with the kind old man; for the following spring his asthma
became worse and worse, and he died. That visit was his last to us. He
teased me and Rubens no more. But when I heard of his death, I felt
what I said, that I was very sorry. He had been very kind and his
pokes and jokes were trifles to look back upon.

Mr. Andrewes kept up his interest in my garden. Indeed, I soon got
beyond the childish way of gardening; I ceased to use my watering-pot
recklessly, and to take up my plants to see how they were getting on.
I was promoted from my little beds to some share in the large
flower-garden. My father was very fond of his flowers, and greatly
pleased to find me useful.

Some of the happiest hours I ever spent were those in which I worked
with him in "the big garden;" Rubens lying in the sun, keeping
imaginary guard over my father's coat. We had a friendly rivalry with
the Rectory, in which I felt the highest interest. Sometimes, however,
I helped Mr. Andrewes himself, when he rewarded me with plants and
good advice. The latter often in quaint rhymes, such as

"This rule in gardening never forget,
To sow dry, and to set wet."

But after a time, and to my deep regret, Mr. Andrewes gave up the care
of my education. He said his duties in the parish did not allow of his
giving much time to me; and though my father had no special wish to
press my studies, and was more anxious for the benefit of the
Rector's influence, Mr. Andrewes at last persuaded him that he ought
to get a resident tutor and prepare me for a public school.

By this time I had almost forgotten my foolish prejudice against the
imaginary Mr. Gray, and was only sorry that I could no longer do
lessons with the Rector.

I suppose it was in answer to some inquiries that he made that my
father heard of a gentleman who wanted such a situation as ours. He
heard of him from Leo Damer's guardian, and the gentleman proved to be
the very tutor whom I had seen from the nursery windows of Aunt
Maria's house. He had remained with Leo ever since, but as Leo's
guardian