oned, seeing light at last in the dimness
of the depression which had possessed him. Quite how much he really
believed, or even if he were capable of real reasonable belief at this
stage of his career, it is not easy to say. It is possible he may have
thought he was right for the time being; his conscience was capable of
remarkable gymnastic feats at times. It is also possible that he, like
some others of the human race, was not really able to think at all.
Anyhow the depression that weighed upon him lifted, and he remembered
with satisfaction that he had kept the torn fragments of Cross' card.

In the early part of the summer the hyacinths, tulips, and finer
narcissus had been taken out of the ground and put to dry. Julia hoped
by this means to get more and better flowers from them next year than
is the case when they are left in the earth. They took some time to
dry and were not really ready till the summer was far advanced; but
that did not matter to her, however it may have inconvenienced her
father; she was too busy to attend to them earlier. By the middle of
August they were ready, and she set to cleaning them in her spare time
with Johnny to help her. He was proud and pleased to do so, and did
not in the least mind the extreme irritation of the skin which befalls
those who rub off the old loose husks. A place was prepared for the
bulbs in one of the sheds, the wide shelf cleared and partitions made
in it by Mr. Gillat, who also spent some time in writing labels for
each of the divisions. Julia told him this was unnecessary as she knew
by the shape which were hyacinths and which tulips; still he did it.
Captain Polkington did not offer any assistance; he merely looked on
with indifferent interest; the matter did not seem to concern him.

But one day, towards the end of the month, but before the bulbs were
all done, Julia went into the town.

Captain Polkington saw her start; then he wandered to the shed where
Johnny was at work. For a little he stood watching, then he walked
leisurely round the place looking at this and that.

"You will never be able to tell which is which of these things," he
remarked at last.

Johnny looked at his somewhat conspicuous labels. "I've named them,
don't you see 'Tulips?'"

"But you don't say what sort of tulips, which are red and which
yellow. Nor what sort of narcissus, which are daffodils and which the
bunchy things."

"No," Mr. Gillat admitted; "no, they got mixed in the