Johnnie's face grew radiant as these two went off to search the fir-wood, but nobody dared to speak or stir, for Swan was still close underneath, so close that they could hear him grumbling to himself over the laziness of a woman who had been hired to weed the walks for him, and was slowly scratching them at a good distance. "Ay, there you go, grudging every weed you pull. The master says it ain't a woman's work--wants to raise you--you! 'Sir,' says I, 'folks can't rise o' top of parish pay,' Ay, she was a pauper, and she'd have liked to charge the parish twopence a time for suckling her own child. Now what would you have? Ain't two shillings a day handsome for scratching out half a peck of grass? You might work here for some time, too, but bless us, what's the good of saying to such as you, 'Don't stand waiting for good luck, and give the go-by to good opportunity?' Your man's just like you," he continued, using his rake with delicate skill among the flowers, while she scratched calmly on, out of hearing--"your man's just like you, idle dog! (you won't raise Phil Raby in a trice.) Why, if he was rich enough to drive his own taxed cart, he'd sooner jolt till his bones ached than get down to grease his wheels." Then a short silence, and other feet came up. "Well, Jemmy man, and what do you want?" A small voice, in a boy's falsetto tone answered, "Please, Mr. Swan, I've brought the paper." "Have you now, and what's the news, Jemmy, do you know?" "Yes--coals are riz again." "You don't say so! that's a thing to make a man thoughtful; and what else, Jemmy?" "Why, the Governor-general's come home from India." "Only think o' that! Well, he may come and welcome, for aught I care, Jemmy. Let the cook give warning or keep her place, it's all one to the flies in the kitchen window." The new-comer withdrew, and Swan was presently heard to throw down his rake and go off to argue with his subordinate, whom he very soon preceded into the back garden behind the house, to the great joy of the party in Parliament, who, still sitting perfectly quiet, began to talk in low tones, Emily inquiring what they really hoped to effect by concealing themselves. "Why, George Crayshaw," said Cray (that being his manner of designating his brother when he was not pleased with him)--"George Crayshaw is only come down here for one day, and Mr. Brandon had fully arranged that I should go to Mr. Tikey till we two return to Harrow, and now he's going to Germany, and wants me to start with him this very day--says the dry continental air may do me good. Why, I am perfectly well--perfectly." "So it appears," said Emily. "Look how he's grown, then," exclaimed Johnnie, who had almost left off lisping, "he hardly ever has a touch of asthma now. His brother hates trouble, so if he cannot find him he may go off by himself." "I was just writing out my verses," Crayshaw whispered, "when I overheard Mr. Brandon saying in the garden that he expected George."