As Colin entered the garden-gate, he observed the industrious Mr. Palethorpe sitting against the western wall of the house,--the afternoon being warm and inviting,--smoking his pipe, and sipping the remains of a bottle of wine. With his legs thrown idly out, and his eyes nearly closed to keep out the sun, he appeared to be imbibing, in the most delicious dreamy listlessness, at once the pleasures of the weed and the grape, and those which could find their way to his inapprehensive soul from the vast speaking volume of glad nature which lay before him. “So, you 're come, are you?” he muttered, without relieving his mouth of the pipe, as the boy drew near him. “Yes, I am here at last,” replied Colin; adding very good-humouredly, “you seem to be enjoying yourself.” “And what in th' devil's name is that to you?” he savagely exclaimed; “what business of yours is it what I'm doing?” “I did not intend to offend you, I'm sure,” said Colin. “You be dang'd!” replied Sammy. “You arn't mester here yet, mind you, if you are at home! I have heard a bit about you, my lad; and if you don't take care how you carry yourself, you 'll soon hear a little bit about me, and feel it an' all, more than we've agreed for at present. Get into th' house with you, and let meesis see you 're come.” The blood rose in Colin's face; and tears, which he would have given half his life to suppress, welled up in his eyes at this brutal greeting, so different to that which he had expected, and to the feelings of happiness which a few minutes previously had thronged, like bees upon a flower, about his heart. As he passed the wire-woven windows of the dairy at the back of the house, he observed a maid within busily employed, in the absence of Miss Sowersoft, in devouring by stealth a piece of cheese. Colin knocked at the door; but before the maid could swallow her mouthful, and wipe the signs thereof from her lips, so as to fit herself to let him in, an ill-tempered voice, which he instantly recognised as that of Miss Sowersoft, bawled out, “Sally!--why don't you go to the door?” “Yes, 'um!” bellowed Sally, in return, as she rushed to the place of entrance, and threw the door back. “Is Miss Sowersoft at home?” asked the boy. “Oh, it's you, is it?” cried his mistress from an inner room. “Come in, come in, and don't keep that door open half an hour, while I am in a perspiration enough to drown anybody!” Colin passed through the kitchen into the apartment from which the voice had proceeded, and there beheld Miss Sowersoft, with a huge stack of newly-washed linen before her, rolling away at a mangle, which occupied nearly one side of the room.