always say."

"Which it's a truth, Master Fred," said the gardener, reprovingly; "and
Master Penrose say as a truth can't be told too often."

"Then I don't think the same as Master Penrose. Do you, Scar?"

"No, of course not. Well, Nat, what were you going to say?"

"Only, sir, that Sampson's my brother; but I'm mortal sorry as he's the
gardener for any friends of yours, for a worse man there never was in a
garden, and I never see it without feeling reg'lar ashamed of the
Manor."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Fred. "Why, that's just what our Samson says
about your garden."

"What, sir? Our Samson said that about the Hall garden?"

"Yes, lots of times."

Nat had a hoe in his hand, and he let the shaft fall into the hollow of
his arm as he moistened his hands, took a fresh hold of the ash pole as
if it was a quarter-staff, and made half a dozen sharp blows at nothing
before letting the tool resume its place on the earth.

"That's what's going to happen to Samson Dee next time we meets, Master
Fred; so p'raps you'll be good enough to tell him what he has got to
expeck."

"Tell him yourself, Nat," said Scarlett, shortly. "Come along, Fred."

The gardener stood looking after them till they disappeared through the
great door of the Hall, and then went on hoeing up weeds very gently, as
if he did not like to injure their tender fibres.

"Master Samson won't be happy till I've given him stick enough to make
his bones sore. Hah! we shall have to get it over somehow. Samson
won't be content till we've had it out."

The supper of those days was ready when the boys entered the great
dining-room, Fred having declared himself ravenous while upstairs in
Scarlett's bedroom, where, the lads being much of a size, he had been
accommodated with a complete change, even to dry shoes.

Sir Godfrey and Lady Markham were waiting, the former looking very
serious, and his countenance becoming more grave as he saw Fred enter.

"You bad boys," whispered Scarlett's sister, as she ran up to them, with
her dark hair tossed about her shoulders. "Father was beginning to
scold."

"How do, Lady Markham?" said Fred, and her ladyship looked troubled as
she took the boy's hand. "How do, sir? It was so late, and I am so
hungry, that I thought you would not mind my stopping to supper with
Scar."

"Ahem! No, my boy," said Sir Godfrey, trying to be cordial, but
speaking coldly. "Sit down. Been out with Scarlett?"

"Yes, sir. All th