All this stirred my feelings to the uttermost, and I wept too, and vowed unconquerable fidelity to Nurse Bundle, and (despite her remonstrances) unconquerable aversion from the tutor that was to be. I furthermore renewed my proposals of marriage to Mrs. Bundle,--the wedding to take place "when I should be old enough." This set her off into fits of laughing; and having regained her good spirits, she declared that "she wouldn't have, no, not a young squire himself, unless he were eddicated accordingly;" and this, it was evident could only be brought about through the good offices of a tutor. And to the prospective tutor (though he was to be her rival) she was magnanimously favourable, whilst I, for my part, warmly opposed the very thought of him. But neither her magnanimity nor my unreasonable objections were put to the test just then. Several days had passed since I and Rubens "dropped in" at the Rectory, and I was one morning labouring diligently at my garden, when I saw Mr. Andrewes, in his canonical coat and shoes, coming along the drive, carrying something in his hand which puzzled me. As he came nearer, however, I perceived that it was a small wheelbarrow, gaily painted red within and green without. At a respectful distance behind him walked Jones, carrying a garden-basket full of plants on his head. Both the wheelbarrow and the plants were for me--a present from the good-natured parson. He was helping me to plant the flower-roots, and giving me a lecture on the sparing use of the wheelbarrow, when my father joined us, and I heard him say to Mr. Andrewes, "I should like a word with you, when you are at liberty." I do not know what made me think that they were talking about me. I did, however, and watched them anxiously, as they passed up and down the drive in close consultation. At last I heard Mr. Andrewes say-- "The afternoon would suit me best; say an hour after luncheon." This remark closed the conversation, and they came back to me. But I had overheard another sentence from Mr. Andrewes' lips, which filled me with disquiet, "I know of one that will just suit you; a capital little fellow." So the tutor was actually decided upon. "'A capital little fellow.' That means a nasty fussy little man!" I cried to myself. "I hate him!" For the rest of that day, and all the next, I worried myself with thoughts of the new tutor. On the following morning, I was standing near one of the lodges with my father, looking at some silver pheasants, when Mr. Andrewes rode by, and called to my father.