and an uncomfortable
acquaintance in consequence, was inclined to be helpful enough in
other ways. The constable, with his assistance, had very soon
hived his swarm of cross-legged bees.

Then the constable insisted on Simon's coming with him and taking
a glass of ale, which, after a little coquetting, Simon consented
to do. So, after carrying his re-capture safely home, and
erecting the hive on a three-legged stand of his own workmanship,
he hastened to rejoin Simon, and the two soon found themselves in
the bar of the "Red Lion."

The constable wished to make the most of this opportunity, and so
began at once to pump Simon as to his intentions with regard to
his daughter. But Simon was not easy to lead in anyway whatever,
and seemed in a more than usually no-business-of-yours line about
his daughter. Whether he had anyone in his eye for her or not,
David could not make out; but one thing he did make out, and it
grieved him much. Old Simon was in a touchy and unfriendly state
of mind against Harry, who, he said, was falling into bad ways,
and beginning to think much too much of his self. Why was he to
be wanting more allotment ground than anyone else? Simon had
himself given Harry some advice on the point, but not to much
purpose, it would seem, as he summed up his notions on the
subject by the remark that, "'Twas waste of soap to lather an
ass."

The constable now and then made a stand for his young friend, but
very judiciously; and, after feeling his way for some time, he
came to the conclusion--as, indeed, the truth was--that Simon was
jealous of Harry's talent for growing flowers, and had been
driven into his present frame of mind at hearing Miss Winter and
her cousin talking about the flowers, at Dame Winburn's under his
very nose for the last four or five days. They had spoken thus to
interest the old man, meaning to praise Harry to him. The fact
was, that the old gardener was one of those men who never can
stand hearing other people praised, and think that all such
praise must be meant in depreciation of themselves.

When they had finished their ale, the afternoon was getting on,
and the constable rose to go back to his work; while old Simon
declared his intention of going down to the hay-field, to see how
the mowing was getting on. He was sure that the hay would never
be made properly, now that he couldn't be about as much as usual.

In another hour the coat was finished, and the constable being
uneasy