pleases me so. He is very good to me, Phineas,
and he gave me a special holiday, that I might go out with you. Isn't
that grand?"

"Grand, indeed. What fun we'll have! I almost think I could take a
walk myself."

For the lad's company invariably gave me new life, and strength, and
hope. The very sight of him was as good as the coming of spring.

"Where shall we go?" said he, when we were fairly off, and he was
guiding my carriage down Norton Bury streets.

"I think to the Mythe." The Mythe was a little hill on the outskirts
of the town, breezy and fresh, where Squire Brithwood had built himself
a fine house ten years ago.

"Ay, that will do; and as we go, you will see the floods out--a
wonderful sight, isn't it? The river is rising still, I hear; at the
tan-yard they are busy making a dam against it. How high are the
floods here, generally, Phineas?"

"I'm sure I can't remember. But don't look so serious. Let us enjoy
ourselves."

And I did enjoy, intensely, that pleasant stroll. The mere sunshine
was delicious; delicious, too, to pause on the bridge at the other end
of the town, and feel the breeze brought in by the rising waters, and
hear the loud sound of them, as they poured in a cataract over the
flood-gates hard by.

"Your lazy, muddy Avon looks splendid now. What masses of white foam
it makes, and what wreaths of spray; and see! ever so much of the Ham
is under water. How it sparkles in the sun."

"John, you like looking at anything pretty."

"Ah! don't I!" cried he, with his whole heart. My heart leaped too, to
see him so happy.

"You can't think how fine this is from my window; I have watched it for
a week. Every morning the water seems to have made itself a fresh
channel. Look at that one, by the willow-tree--how savagely it pours!"

"Oh, we at Norton Bury are used to floods."

"Are they ever very serious?"

"Have been--but not in my time. Now, John, tell me what you have been
doing all winter."

It was a brief and simple chronicle--of hard work, all day over, and
from the Monday to the Saturday--too hard work to do anything of
nights, save to drop into the sound, dreamless sleep of youth and
labour.

"But how did you teach yourself to read and add up, then?"

"Generally at odd minutes going along the road. It's astonishing what
a lot of odd minutes one can catch during the day, if one really sets
about it. And then I had Sunday afternoons besides. I did not think
it