“He’ll do, won’t he? Eh!” said a man who was leaning over his garden gate. “Oh, ah! he’ll do fine,” replied another, taking his pipe from his mouth for a moment. “He’s growed into a very likely lad, has he, and we shall do better with him nor we did with t’other.” “That’s my ’pinion also. He looks like a fine young Englishman, though he have been a-living in foreign parts.” “He’ll do, and that’s my verdict.” John Dallington was looking at the villagers with an interest scarcely less keen than that with which they regarded him. He knew more about them than might be imagined. Newspapers, magazines, reviews, and other floating literature dealing with the questions of the day had been regularly transmitted to him during his absence, and he was, therefore, well acquainted with things as they were. He had read of bad harvests in England while lingering among the cornfields of America; and “the bitter cry” of London had reached him in New Zealand. Perhaps, as he looked at these subjects from a distance, and studied them very impartially by the aid of both Liberal and Conservative journals, he was as able to decide concerning them as those who had remained upon the scene. In any case, with the usual sanguine confidence of youth, he quite believed he was; and had already fully made up his mind in regard to his course of action. One of the first things he meant to do next morning was to go over the estate and “see to things,” especially keeping his eyes open to the needs of the cottage tenants on the farm. “John, this is rather a trying ordeal,” said Mrs. Hunter, as they entered the churchyard. “Everybody seems to be looking at us.” “Never mind, mother; they are looking very kindly. And here is Emerson, appearing not a day older than when I went away. I suppose he is as good as ever. He used to work as hard and live on as little as if he were the curate instead of the vicar. How strange it will feel to be in the old pew once more.” The next minute they had taken their places; and as the last strokes of the bells died away the sounds of the organ were heard; and John knelt as he used to kneel when a little boy at his mother’s side, to join in the General Confession, and listen to the Absolution.