----"

Ned Jowett turned to him rather gravely.

"I didn't mean to offend you, sir," he said. "But you must remember
you're taking up a different line from that. Farmer Eames, or farmer
nobody, wouldn't engage a farm hand that expected to be treated as a
gentleman. It's not my fault, sir. 'Twas yourself told me what you
wished."

Geoff was silent for a moment or two. It was not easy all at once to
make up his mind to _not_ being a gentleman any more, and yet his common
sense told him that Jowett was right; it must be so. Unless, indeed, he
gave it all up and went back home again to eat humble pie, and live on
Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot's bounty, and go to some horrid school of his
choosing, and be more "bullied" (so he expressed it to himself) than
ever by his sisters, and scarcely allowed to see his mother at all. The
silent enumeration of these grievances decided him. He turned round to
Jowett with a smile.

"Yes," he said; "I was forgetting. You must tell Farmer Eames he'll not
find any nonsense about me."

"All right, sir. But, if you'll excuse me, I'd best perhaps drop the
'sir'?"

Geoff nodded.

"And that reminds me," Jowett went on, "you've not told me your
name--leastways, what name you wish me to give Eames. We're close to his
place now;" and as he spoke he looked about him scrutinizingly. "Ten
minutes past the back way through the park you'll come to a lane on the
left. Eames's farm is the first house you come to on the right," he
repeated to himself, too low for Geoff to hear. "Yes, I can't be wrong."

"You can call me Jim--Jim Jeffreys," said the boy. "He needn't be afraid
of getting into any trouble if he takes me on. I've no father, and my
mother won't worry about me," he added bitterly.

The entrance to the lane just then came in sight.

"This here's our way," said Jowett. "Supposing I go on a bit in front. I
think it would be just as well to explain to Eames about my bringing
you."

"All right," said Geoff. "I'll come on slowly. Where is the farm?"

"First house to the right; you can't miss it. But I'll come back to meet
you again."

He hurried on, and Geoff followed slowly. He was hungry now as well as
cold and tired--at least, he supposed he must be hungry, he felt so dull
and stupid. What should he do if Farmer Eames could not take him on? he
began to ask himself; he really felt as if it would be impossible for
him to set off on his travels again like a tramp, begging for work all
over th