n,
half apologetically, "there's some one ill at home, and I'd like to know
how--how they are."

"To be sure," said Jowett again; "it's only natural. And however bad
one's been treated by one's people--and it's easy to see they must have
treated you _on_common badly to make a young gent like you have to leave
his home and come down to work for his living like a poor boy, though I
respects you for it all the more--still own folks is own folks."

He cast a shrewd glance at Geoff, as he spoke. The boy could not help
colouring. Had he been treated so "oncommon badly"? Was his determination
to run away and be independent of Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's assistance a
real manly resolution, or not rather a fit of ill-tempered boyish spite?
Would he not have been acting with far more true independence by accepting
gratefully the education which would have fitted him for an honourable
career in his own rank? for Mr. Byrne, as he knew well by his mother's
trust in the old gentleman, was not one to have thrown him aside had he
been worthy of assistance.

"But anyway, it's done now," thought the boy, choking down the feelings
which began to assert themselves.

At the station, Jowett was as good as his word. He got the paper and a
pencil, and Geoff wrote a short note to Vicky, just to tell her he was
"all right," and enclosing the address to which she was to write. And
Jowett undertook that she should have it that same evening. Had the boy
been less preoccupied he could not but have been struck by the curious
inconsistencies in the young countryman, who, when he had first met him
that morning, had seemed scarcely able to find his way to the station,
and yet, when occasion arose, had shown himself as sharp and capable as
any Londoner.

But as it was, when the train had whizzed off again, he only felt as
if his last friend had deserted him. And it was a very subdued and
home-sick Geoffrey who, in the chilly, misty autumn evening, drove the
old pony through the muddy lanes to the farm, the empty milk-cans
rattling in the cart behind him, and the tears slowly coursing down his
cheeks now there was no one to see them.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X.

POOR GEOFF!

He drove into the yard, where Matthew's disagreeable face and voice soon
greeted him. Half forgetting himself, Geoff threw the reins on to the
pony's neck and jumped out of the cart, with his carpet-bag. He was
making his way into the house, feeling a