‘Lor’! mother, and if he hasn’t--where’s the harm?’ Mr Vansittart replied. ‘Haven’t we got enough for all? Not but what Harland’ (I am afraid he said ’Arland) ‘dresses very particular, and always looks the gentleman. However, I sha’n’t throw my gal away--you may make your mind easy about that; but if the young feller likes to come out to New Zealand with us, and shows me as he can work, and has no nonsense about him, and our Grace sets her heart upon him--why, all I shall say is, please yourself, my dear, and you’ll please me.’ And so it was that John Vansittart came to offer the position of land-agent to Godfrey Harland. ‘Do you know anything of Mr Harland’s family or relations, John?’ said his wife, when he told her what he had done. ‘Quite as much as I want to, my dear. I met the young man at Aintree, walking about with Lord Sevenoaks and Colonel Fusee--good enough credentials, I should think, for any one--and he gave me his opinion of the horses that were running. I should have lost all round if it hadn’t been for him. But he’s very wide awake--got his eyes well open--just the very sort of man we want out there. Dash his family! What do we care about family? We ain’t got none ourselves. And any one can see he’s a gentleman born--and he’s got no encumbrances, and if he’s willing to come with us, why, I’m the man to take him, that’s all.’ ‘And I’m sure he’ll never repent his decision,’ said Mrs Vansittart, plaintively; ‘for no one who once saw our Wellington or Canterbury could ever wish to set his foot in this dull and dirty London again.’ When Godfrey Harland reached the Vansittart’s residence that evening, he was at once ushered into the library, where the master of the house was evidently awaiting him. ‘I told ’em to show you in here first, Mr Harland,’ he commenced, cordially shaking hands, ‘as I thought you and me might settle this little matter before joining the ladies. Of course, you’ve received my letter.’ ‘About an hour ago,’ replied Godfrey. ‘I came on as soon as ever I could.’ ‘Ah! I thought that would fetch you,’ chuckled the old man. ‘You unmarried men are lucky dogs, to have no one to say, “With your leave,” or “By your leave” to as you go in or out.’ ‘We don’t always think so, sir.’ ‘No, you don’t know when you’re well off. Well, if you take my advice, you’ll remain as you are--for some time to come, at least. But this ain’t business! What do you say to my proposal, Mr Harland?’ ‘That if I can fulfil the duties, the position will suit me down to the ground.’