, affably.

Mr. Saunders grunted; Mr. Vyner blew out a thin thread of smoke toward
the sky and pondered.

"Fine exercise; I wish I could get fond of it," he remarked.

"Perhaps you could if you tried," said the other, without looking round.

"After all," said Mr. Vyner, thoughtfully; "after all, perhaps it does
one just as much good to watch other people at it. My back aches with
watching you, and my knees are stiff with cramp. I suppose yours are,
too?"

Mr. Saunders made no reply. He went on stolidly with his work until,
reaching over too far with the trowel, he lost his balance and pitched
forward on to his hands. Somewhat red in the face he righted himself,
and knocking the mould off his hands, started once more.

"Try, try, try again," quoted the admiring onlooker.

"Perhaps you'd like to take a turn," said Mr. Saunders, looking round
and speaking with forced politeness.

Mr. Vyner shook his head, and, helping himself to another cigarette,
proffered the case to the worker, and, on that gentleman calling
attention to the grimy condition of his hands, stuck one in his mouth
and lit it for him. Considerably mollified by these attentions, the
amateur gardener resumed his labours with a lighter heart.

Joan Hartley, returning half an hour later, watched them for some
time from an upper window, and then, with a vague desire to compel
the sprawling figure on the bench to get up and do a little work, came
slowly down the garden.

"You are working too hard, Mr. Saunders," she remarked, after Mr. Vyner
had shaken hands and the former had pleaded the condition of his.

"He likes it," said Mr. Vyner.

"At any rate, it has got to be finished," said Mr. Saunders.

Miss Hartley looked at them, and then at the work done and the heap of
plants still to go in. She stood tapping the ground thoughtfully with
her foot.

"I expect that we are only interrupting him by standing here talking
to him," said Robert Vyner, considerately. "No doubt he is wishing us
anywhere but here; only he is too polite to say so."

Ignoring Mr. Saunders's fervent protestations, he took a tentative step
forward, as though inviting Miss Hartley to join him; but she stood
firm.

"Will you give me the trowel, please?" she said, with sudden decision.

Before Mr. Saunders could offer any resistance she took it from him,
and stooping gracefully prepared to dig. Mr. Vyner interposed with some
haste.

"Allow me," he said.

Miss Hartley placed