"No, thank you. The game's on our ground, so I shall come home to change."
Mr. Ormond, who had not been paying much attention to the conversation, now laid aside the newspaper he had been reading, at the same time remarking,—
"I see that the Arcadia left the docks in London yesterday bound for Australia, so I suppose by this time Mr. William Cole has begun his first experience of being 'rocked in the cradle of the deep.'"
"Was the Arcadia the ship he was going out on?" asked Ida.
"Yes," replied her father; "that was the one in which he had booked his passage."
"'Old King Cole was a merry old soul,'" chanted Guy, with his mouth half full of toast and butter. "I wish he hadn't gone. I'm sure we shan't ever have such a nice man again."
"He was a civil, sharp young fellow," said Mr. Ormond. "I suppose he hopes to do better in the Colonies than by staying on in the old country. Well, it's very possible he may get on. He's a handy sort of chap, and can turn his hand to all kinds of jobs."
William Cole, the subject of these remarks, had, until about a week previous to the commencement of this story, been gardener and man-of-all-work at the Pines. Being easy-going, and clever with his hands, he had been a great favourite with the children. Whether it was to clean a bicycle, splice the broken joint of a fishing-rod, blow birds' eggs, or cut the fork of a catapult, William was always the man to whom to apply; and he never failed in the performance of these services to win the entire satisfaction of his youthful admirers.
"I am sorry he's gone," said Ida. "He was always so polite, and never grumbled when you asked him to run an errand."
"It's time we were off," exclaimed Brian, glancing at the clock.—"Will you excuse me, aunt? I've got to find my books."