said. "He knows which side his bread's buttered
on, does this 'ere young fellow."

Geoff grew scarlet, and some angry rejoinder was on his lips, when
Jowett, who to his great indignation was laughing too, clapped him on
the shoulder.

"Come, my boy, there's naught to fly up about. Eames must have his
joke."

"I see naught to laugh at," said Mrs. Eames, who had by this time shaken
the potatoes into a large dish that stood ready to receive them; "the
lad meant it civil enough."

"You're not to spoil him now, wife," said her husband. "It's no
counter-jumpers' ways we want hereabouts. Sit thee down, Ned; and Jim,
there, you can draw the bench by the door a bit nearer the dresser, and
I'll give you some dinner by-and-by."

Geoff, his heart swelling, did as he was bid. He sat quietly enough,
glad of the rest and the warmth, till Mr. and Mrs. Eames and their
guest were all helped, and had allayed the first sharp edge of their
appetites. But from time to time the farmer's wife glanced at Geoff
uneasily, and once, he felt sure, he saw her nudge her husband.

"She means to be kind," thought the boy.

And her kindness apparently had some effect. The farmer looked round,
after a deep draught of beer, and pushed his tankard aside.

"Will you have a sup, Jim?" he said good-naturedly. "I can't promise it
you every day; but for once in a way."

[Illustration: HE SAT QUIETLY ENOUGH.]

"No, thank you," Geoff replied. "I never take beer; moth----" but he
stopped suddenly.

"As you like," said the farmer; "but though you're not thirsty, I dare
say you're hungry."

He cut off a slice of the cold meat before him, and put it on a plate
with some potatoes, and a bit of dripping from a dish on the table. The
slice of meat was small in proportion to the helping of potatoes; but
Geoff was faint with hunger. He took the plate, with the steel-pronged
fork and coarse black-handled knife, and sat down again by the dresser
to eat. But, hungry though he was, he could not manage it all. Half-way
through, a sort of miserable choky feeling came over him: he thought of
his meals at home--the nice white tablecloth, the sparkling glass and
silver, the fine china--and all seemed to grow misty before his eyes for
a minute or two; he almost felt as if he were going to faint, and the
voices at the table sounded as if they came from the other side of the
Atlantic. He drank some water--for on his refusing beer, Mrs. Eames had
handed him a little h