after a fitful fashion, Miss Hartley laughed no more.

He worked on steadily, and trampled ground and broken plants bore
witness to his industry. He was just beginning to feel that he had done
enough gardening for that day, when the return of Mr. Hartley brought
welcome relief. The astonishment of the latter at finding this new and
unlooked-for assistance was at first almost beyond words. When he could
speak he thanked him brokenly for his trouble and, depriving him of his
tools, took him indoors to wash.

"He means well," he said, slowly, after Mr. Vyner had at last taken his
departure; "he means well, but I am afraid Mr. John wouldn't like it."

Miss Hartley flushed. "We didn't ask him to come," she said, with
spirit.

"No," said her father, plucking at his beard, and regarding her with a
troubled expression. "No; I'm afraid that he is one of those young men
that don't want much asking."

CHAPTER IX

OWING possibly to the unaccustomed exercise, but probably to more
sentimental reasons, Robert Vyner slept but poorly the night after his
labours. He had explained his absence at the dinner-table by an airy
reference to a long walk and a disquisition on the charms of the
river by evening, an explanation which both Mr. Vyner and his wife had
received with the silence it merited. It was evident that his absence
had been the subject of some comment, but his father made no reference
to it as they smoked a cigar together before retiring.

He awoke early in the morning and, after a vain attempt to get to sleep
again, rose and dressed. Nobody else was stirring, and going quietly
downstairs he took up a cap and went out.

Except for a labouring man or two tramping stolidly to work, the streets
were deserted. The craft anchored in the river seemed asleep, and he
stood for some time on the bridge idly watching the incoming tide. He
lit his pipe and then, with a feeble endeavour to feel a little surprise
at the fact, discovered that he was walking in the direction of Mr.
Hartley's house.

His pace slackened as he neared it, and he went by gazing furtively at
the drawn blinds of the front windows. A feeling of regret that Joan
Hartley should be missing such a delightful morning would not be denied;
in imagination he saw himself strolling by her side and pointing out to
her the beauties of the most unfrequented portions of the river bank.
A sudden superstitious trust in fate--caught possibly from Captain
Trimblett--ma