want, is it?” he cried. “Sure, it’s an oration I’ll give ye. I’ll grow ye the real home rule pertaters.”

“Well,” said I, rising, “do you begin to-morrow morning, and will your son help for a few weeks?”

“The mornin’ it is,” said Mike, “and Joe along.”

I paused by the side of the girl. “All Gaul is divided into three parts,” I laughed.

She looked up with a pretty smile, but Mike spoke: “Sure, but they give all three parts to Nora,” he said, “so what was the use o’ dividin’ it? She thinks she’s me mither instead o’ me daughter!”

“I’ll put you to bed in a minute,” said Nora, while Mike grinned proudly at her.

“I’m going to like Mike,” said I to Bert, as we walked back up the road.

“I knoo yer would soon ez I seen yer,” Bert replied. “The only folks thet don’t like Mike is the folks thet can’t see a joke. Mike has a tolerable number o’ dislikers.”

“Well, I’ve got my farmer,” said I, “and now I suppose I’ve got to find a housekeeper, as soon as the house is ready to live in. Nora would suit me.”

“I reckon she would,” Bert replied, “but she wouldn’t soot Bentford.”

“In other words, I want an oldish woman, very plain, and preferably a widow?”

“With a young son old enough ter help on the farm,” Bert added with a grin.

“I don’t suppose you know of just that combination?”

“Reckon I dew. You leave it to my old lady.”

“Mr. Temple,” said I, “seems to me I’m leaving everything to you.”

“Wal, neow, yer might do a heap sight worse!” said Bert.

I went up to my chamber when we got back, and sat down beside my little glass lamp and did some figuring. I had $24,000 of my savings left, and out of that I subtracted another $2,000 for the carpenters and plumbers. That left me with an income from my investments of about $1,000 a year. Added to my alleged salary as a manuscript reader, along with what I hoped I could pick up writing, I recklessly calculated my annual income as a possible $3,000. Out of this I subtracted $600 for Mike’s wages, $360 for a housekeeper, $400 for additional labour, $75 for taxes, and $500 for additions to my “plant,” as I began to call my farm. That made a total of $1,935, and left me a margin of about $1,000 for food, wines, liquors, and cigars, magazines, rare etchings, first editions, golf club dues, golf balls, caddy hire, an automobile, some antique mahogany, a few Persian rugs, an Italian marble sundial, and several other trifles I desired.

I scanned my pad thoughtfully, and finally decided not to join the golf club till the following year.

Then it occurred to me that I ought, of course, to sell my farm produce for a handsome profit. Bert had gone to bed, so I couldn’t ask him how much I would be likely to realize. But with all due conservatism I decided that I could safely rejoin the golf club. So I did, then and there. Whereupon I felt better, and, picking out the manuscript of a novel from my bag, I went bravely at the task of earning my living.

Chapter III
NEW JOY IN AN OLD ORCHARD

The following morning was a balmy and exquisite first of May, but realism again compels me to confess that, having been an English instructor for seven years, and having read manuscripts the night before till 2 a.m., I did not leap lightly from my couch at the breakfast call, nor did I sing ecstatically, as I looked from my window: