Bertie’s face glowed with pleasure as he gave a glad assent; and behold, upon the very next morning he found himself arrayed in extra strong boots and tanned leather leggings up to his knees, “just like papa’s” as he proudly remarked to Pritchard in the hall, and with his top-coat buttoned well up and his dog-whip in his hand, he awaited the Squire in a a state of joyous impatience. Just as the clock struck nine, the dining-room door opened, and out he came, and Bertie’s kiss and greeting that morning were more joyously childlike than perhaps they had ever been before. The great dog Sam was as pleased as anybody at an arrangement that did not divide his allegiance, and hand in hand, with the dog at their heels, the Squire and his little adopted son commenced their round of the farm and stables. This part of the premises was quite new to Bertie. He had had leave to ramble anywhere about the garden, but he had never been told that he might visit the yard or the farm; and, with his ingrained sense of obedience, he had never allowed himself to trespass without leave, although he had many times wished he might investigate the mysteries of those many long sheds and high brick walls. But this way of doing things was better than any dream. The Squire was careful to explain as much to the child as he could take in at first. He let him count the cows in their stalls, and gave him material for many sums to be worked out afterwards as to the quantities of milk and butter. He let him watch whilst they were loosed and turned out to graze in the rich meadows below, and encouraged him to caress the pretty Alderney whose acquaintance he had made in the fields. He showed him the different pigs, and explained their “points” to him; he let him look at the horses, and told anecdotes about several of them that were listened to with deep attention. When the more serious business of the day began, and orders were given to the different men, and consultations held with the bailiff as to the disposal of cattle or the rotation of crops, Bertie listened with all his ears, trying to look as much like the Squire as possible, secretly imitating his attitudes, and repeating to himself some phrase that struck him as particularly fine. He was dismissed presently to the garden and the park, as the Squire had to prolong his inspection by a trudge over some ploughed land, too heavy for Bertie to traverse: but the little boy went happily away, much delighted by his morning’s work, and quite convinced that there was nobody in the whole world half so wise or so kind as the Squire. And a few days later there was a new surprise for Bertie. He dined every day now at the Squire’s luncheon hour, not only on Sundays, as in old times; and one day, as they rose from table, they heard the sound of horses’ feet upon the gravel drive outside, and the Squire looked at the clock and said,—