But there followed a few days of cheerful activity, the very first of which dissipated into thin air the last remnant of Harry’s remorseful consciousness--for Cuthbert and he rode together to call on some of the agricultural authorities before mentioned, and take counsel with them--not always sweet--concerning all the processes of the warfare which should subjugate this stubborn soil; and Harry advertised in the local newspapers for a manager to take charge of his farming operations, and heard of one before his advertisement was printed, so suitable, as it seemed, in every respect, that Harry, fearing he might not wait till Martinmas, engaged him out of hand in July, that no one else might seize on such a treasure. Not only so--but Harry, whose pride had been greatly hurt by Dragon’s implied opinion that he was a timid rider, subdued his horse, at no small cost to his own nerves, and rode a dozen miles to a cattle-show, partly in self-assertion, partly to acquire some knowledge of “the beasts,” which his agricultural instructors discoursed of so learnedly; but Harry was not the man to study beasts, and his long ride exhausted him, though it was a triumph. He had settled matters, however, with his conscience which now, rather applauded than condemned--and Harry was content. Poor Harry! but when Cuthbert’s week was out, he said those words with eyes that glistened, and a yearning heart; for Harry was born to be loved, and amid all his faults, and all the unconscious selfishness of his indulgences, he never lost this natural portion.