upon the quality of his bread.

The next morning found him still unsubdued, and, under interrogation from
the farmer, he admitted that he liked it, and said that the feeling of
being at home was growing upon him.

"If you're satisfied, I am," said Mr. Rose, grimly. "I'll keep you here
till you promise; mind that."

"It's a nobleman's life," said Ned, peeping through the window, "and I'm
beginning to like you as much as my real father."

"I don't want none o' yer impudence," said the farmer, reddening.

[Illustration: "'None o' yer impudence,' said the farmer."]

"You'll like me better when you've had me here a little longer," said
Ned; "I shall grow on you. Why not be reasonable and make up your mind
to it? Celia and I have."

"I'm going to send Celia away on Saturday," said Mr. Rose; "make yourself
happy and comfortable in here till then. If you'd like another crust o'
bread or an extra half pint o' water you've only got to mention it. When
she's gone I'll have a hunt for that key, so as you can go back to your
father and help him to understand his law-books better."

He strode off with the air of a conqueror, and having occasion to go to
the village looked in at the shoe-maker's window as he passed and smiled
broadly. For years Little Haven had regarded Mr. Quince with awe, as
being far too dangerous a man for the lay mind to tamper with, and at one