"One daughter. She married without his consent: I forget the man’s name, and I haven’t heard about her for five-and-twenty years." "What will you do?" "I’m just thinking. My uncle was a shipowner, and pretty well-to-do: indeed, your poor mother’s friends used to advise me to keep in with him, but I couldn’t toady to the old bear. I suppose I ought to go back, and yet!---- It’s rather upsetting, my boy, just as we are getting settled. He must have died before we left England, and if I had known then, and really inherit his property, we needn’t have come out at all, perhaps." "I’m jolly glad you didn’t, then, for I wouldn’t have been out of this for anything." "That’s all very well, but there’s the property: it would be a pity to lose that: shouldn’t like it to go out of the family. At the same time, I’m not inclined to give up the farm; we’ve made a good start, and I’m uncommonly interested in it. Besides, I may not be the heir after all; my cousin may be alive: and I should look a pretty fool after going to this expense if I cleared out and got nothing--like the dog in the fable. I think I’d better take a trip back to Nairobi and see Gillespie. And I’ll tell you what I’ll do, John. If I decide to go home, as most likely I shall, I’ll find an experienced man in Nairobi and send him up to take charge while I’m away." "That’s rather rotten," said John with a crestfallen look. "I don’t want anybody here bossing me, father. Why not leave me in charge?" "You’re over young, John," replied Mr. Halliday dubiously. "I’m just on eighteen, and I’ve got a bit used to things. I learnt a lot in that six months at the agricultural college before we started. I’m not exactly a fool, either. Plenty of fellows have gone to the Colonies on their own at my age, and done jolly well too. Look at Ned Cooper; he’s got his own ranch in British Columbia, and he’s not more than a year older than I am. Besides, look at the expense. You won’t get a decent Englishman who’ll be any good under £300 a year, I should think, and if this business in Glasgow turns out a frost, you’ll be precious sorry you spent the money." "There’s something in that," said Mr. Halliday, stroking his beard. "Well, I’ll think of it." The upshot of his meditations was that he decided to do as John suggested. The lad was unfeignedly delighted; the responsibility did not daunt him; though he said little he felt capable of carrying on the work of the farm, and inwardly resolved to have a good budget to show his father when he returned. Mr. Halliday spent a good many anxious hours in instilling principles of caution and carefulness into his mind: he gave directions about the steps to be taken to bring the cattle and sheep and dairy produce to market when the proper time came; and then one day he set off with Coja and a couple of villagers as porters, determined to ask Mr. Gillespie to keep an eye on the boy as far as he could.