GEOFF AT THE STATION.
Click to [ENLARGE]

"You'll have to be here in better time for the twelve train," he said crossly. "I'm not a-going to do this sort o' work for you nor no chap, if you can't be here in time."

Geoff did not answer—he was getting used to sharp words and tones. He nearly fell asleep in the cart as he jogged home again, and to add to his discomfort a fine, small, chill, November rain began to fall. He buttoned up his jacket, and wished he had put on his overcoat; and then he laughed rather bitterly to think how absurd he would look with this same overcoat, which had been new only a month before, driving old Dapple in the milk-cart. He was wet and chilled to the bone when he reached the farm, and even if he had energy to drive a little faster he would not have dared to do so, after the farmer's warning.

Mrs. Eames was in the kitchen when, after putting up the cart and pony, Geoff came in. There was a delicious fragrance of coffee about which made his mouth water, but he did not even venture to go near the fire. Mrs. Eames heard him, however, and looked up. She started a little at the sight of his pale, wan face.

"Bless me, boy!" she exclaimed, "but you do look bad. Whatever's the matter?"

Geoff smiled a little—he looked very nice when he smiled; it was only when he was in one of his ill-tempered moods that there was anything unlovable in his face—and his smile made Mrs. Eames still more sorry for him.

"There's nothing the matter, thank you," he said; "I'm only rather cold—and wet. I'm strange to it all, I suppose. I wanted to know what I should do next. Should I feed the pigs?"

"Have you met the master?" said the farmer's wife. "He's gone down the fields with Matthew and the others. Didn't you meet 'em?"

Geoff shook his head.

"No; I went straight to the stable when I came back from the station."