"George," said Susan gently, "I am very sorry my father was so
unkind."

"Thank ye kindly, Susan; that is the first drop of dew that has fallen
on me to-day."

"But obedience to parents," continued Susan, interrogating, as it
were, her conscience, "is a great duty. I _hope_ I shall never
disobey my father," faltered she.

"Oh!" answered the goose George hastily, "I don't want any girl to be
kind to me that does not love me; I am so unlucky, it would not be
worth her while, you know."

At this Susan answered still more sharply, "No, I don't think it would
be worth any woman's while, till your character and temper undergo a
change."

George never answered a word, but went and leaned his head upon the
side of a cart that stood half in and half out of a shed close by.

At this juncture a gay personage joined the party. He had a ball
waistcoat, as alarming tie, a shooting jacket, wet muddy trousers and
shoes, and an empty basket on his back.

He joined our group, just as George was saying to himself very sadly,
"I am in everybody's way here"--and he attacked him directly.

"Everybody is in this country."