since I saw it last. People would not come
and settle here if the place was like what you
say."

Instead of arguing the matter, Fleming led
the way down the long flight of steps. He
was aware that leading the gentleman among
bad smells and over shoes in a foul bog
would have more effect than any argument
was ever known to have on his contradictious
spirit.

"You should have seen worse things than
these, and then you would not be so discontented,"
observed Mr. Nelson, striking his
stick upon the hard-baked soil, all intersected
with cracks. "I have seen such a soil as this
in Spain, some days after a battle, when there
were scores of fingers and toes sticking up
out of the cracks. What would you say to
that?—eh?"

"We may have a chance of seeing that
here," replied Fleming; "if the plague comes,—
and comes too fast for the coffin-makers—
a thing which has happened more than once
in England, I believe."

Mr. Nelson stopped to laugh; but he
certainly attended more to business as he went
on; and Fleming, who knew something of
his ways, had hopes that if he could only
keep his own temper, this visit of the Director
might not be without good results.

In passing through Woodruffe's garden,
very nice management was necessary. Woodruffe
was at work there, charged with ire
against railway directors and landed
proprietors, whom, amidst the pangs of his
rheumatism, he regarded as the poisoners
of his land and the bane of his fortunes;
while, on the other hand, Mr. Nelson, who
had certainly never been a market-gardener,
criticised and ridiculed everything that met
his eye. What was the use of such a tool-
house as that?—big enough for a house for
them all. What was the use of such low
fences?—of such high screens?—of making the
walks so wide?—sheer waste!—of making the
beds so long one way, and so narrow another?—
of planting or sowing this and that?—things
that nobody wanted. Woodruffe had pushed
back his hat, in preparation for a defiant
reply, when Fleming caught his eye, and, by
a good-tempered smile, conveyed to him that
they had an oddity to deal with. Allan, who
had begun by listening reverently, was now
looking from one to another, in great
perplexity.

"What is that boy here for, staring like a
dunce? Why don't you send him to school?
You neglect a parent's duty if you don't send
him to school."

Woodruffe answered by a smile of
contempt, walked away, and went to work at a
distance.

"That boy is very well taught," Fleming
said, quietly. "He is a great reader, and will
soon be fit to keep his father's accounts."

"What does he stare in that manner for,
then? I took him for a dunce."

"He is not accustomed to hear his father
called in question, either as a gardener or a
parent."

"Pho! pho! I might as well have waited,
though, till he was out of hearing. Well, is
this all you have to show me? I think you
make a great fuss about nothing."

"Will you walk this way?" said Fleming,
turning down towards the osier beds, without
any compassion for the gentleman's boots or
olfactory nerves. For a long while Mr. Nelson
affected to admire the reeds, and waterflags,
and marsh-blossoms, declared the decayed
vegetation to be peat soil, very fine peat, which
the ladies would be glad of for their heaths in
the flower-garden,—and thought there must
be good fowling here in winter. Fleming
quietly turned over the so-called peat with a
stick, letting it be seen that it was a mere
dung-heap of decayed rushes, and wished Mr.
Nelson would come in the fowling season, and
see what the place was like.

"The children are merry enough, however,"
observed the gentleman. "They can laugh
here, much as in other places. I advise you
to take a lesson from them, Fleming. Now,
don't you teach them to croak."

The laughter sounded from the direction of
the old brick-ground; and thither they now
turned. Two little boys were on the brink of
a pit, so intent on watching a rat in the
water and on pelting it with stones, that they
did not see that anybody was coming to
disturb them. In answer to Mr. Nelson's
question, whether they were vagrants, and
why vagrants were permitted there, Fleming
answered that the younger one—the pale-
faced one—was his little brother-in-law; the
other—

"Ay, now, you will be telling me next that
the pale face is the fault of this place."

"It certainly is," said Fleming. "That child
was chubby enough when he came."

"Pho, pho! a puny little wretch as ever I
saw puny—from its birth, I have no doubt of
it. And who is the other a gipsy?"

"He looks like it," replied Fleming. On
being questioned, Moss told that the boy
lived near, and he had often played with him
lately. Yes, he lived near, just beyond those
trees; not in a house, only a sort of house
the people had made for themselves. Mr.
Nelson liked to lecture vagrants, even more
than other people; so Moss was required to
show the way, and his dark-skinned play-
fellow was not allowed to skulk behind.

Moss led his party on, over the tufty hay-
coloured grass, skipping from bunch to bunch
of rushes, round the osier-beds, and at last
straight through a clump of alders, behind
whose screen now appeared the house, as
Moss had called it, which the gipsies had
made for themselves. It was the tilt of a
waggon, serving as a tent. Nobody was
visible but a woman, crouching under the
shadow of the tent, to screen from the sun
that which was lying across her lap.