At eight o'clock on the following morning old James the gardener came up to his master, who was taking a turn round the garden before breakfast, and said 4 Please, sir, I’ve got a hand as I think can do the garden-work you were speak ing of last night.’ ‘.lndeed, James ; and who is he ?’ 4 Well, sir, I picked him up by chance through Tom Groves, who keeps the Holly Inn. He says he’s out of work, and knows something about gardening, and is quite agreeable about wages—l6s a week, sir, with bis bed and meals. I think you said that would be the agreement, sir, and there’s the bed above the stable, where the coachman slept before he was married. He’s a likely enough lad, though he has a bit of black plaster on his face about half the size of my thumb; and is fair spoken too. He’s an Irishman, and speaks very strong that way. Would you like to see him, sir?’ ‘No, I ihink not, James. Or stay; you had better let me see him. An Irish* man, did you say ? The fellow may bo one of those wretched Fenians, and my quiet home may be turned into a perfect hotbed of sedition in a few hours. Send him round, James.’ James stepped back a few paces, and beckoned with his hand, upon which a figure came swinging round the corner of the villa, dressed in workman’s over clothes, a rather dirty blue striped shirt, and a pair of thick coarsely-made boots. He carried his brown velveteen coat over one arm, and had a spade in his hand. He had the appearance of being very much sunburnt, wore his rather dustv-looking hair over his face a good deal, and had a large piece of plaster across one cheek. Notwithstanding-this last, his general ex pression was very taking, especially when he slightly smiled as he touched his cap, and with a decided Irish accent wished Mr Raymond ‘ Good morning, sir.’ 4 Good morning,’ said Mr Raymond. 4 My gardener tells me you’ve done this kind of work before. Where did you do it?’

4 Now for it,’ said Fred to himself. 