"Of your own free will?" "Not exactly; I got notice because I came home drunk one night." "Is that your habit, may I ask? It's a bad one." "No, sir, it's not," said Tom, lifting fearless eyes. "It was the first time." "Let it be the last, then. What kind of work can you do?" "I've been in the garden; but I know something about horses." "Well, I'm going to take the management of the home farm that lies near the Court, into my own hands, and I think I can find you work amongst the horses. I'll see the bailiff about it, and you can call on Saturday night, when we will settle the question of wages." Tom's heart gave a joyful throb! A place on the farm close to the Court would give him opportunities of many a stolen interview with Rose; and if he showed himself willing and ready to do the thing that came to his hand, he might rise to the position of bailiff before very long, and find himself able to give his Rose as pretty a home as she could wish for. "I won't forget your kindness, nor how you're ready to take me without a character. I'll serve you honest and true," he said. "It is only one more example of the capriciousness of rich people," said Paul, as he told the tale to Sally later in the day. "Here was this poor fellow dismissed without a character for what I honestly believe was a first offence. I'm glad to give him a helping hand." But Paul was judging hastily; Tom Burney had received notice from the gardener, who had not thought it worth while to consult Mrs. Webster about the matter. CHAPTER VIII. AN OUTSTRETCHED HAND. It was many weeks before Paul and May Webster met after the night of the fire. The Court was crammed with company, and although Paul and his sister were invited to dinner more than once, such invitations were politely declined. "It's quite impossible, Sally," Paul had said, in answer to the rather wistful look in her dark eyes. "To dine there quietly by ourselves, is one thing; to go and meet a heap of smart people, who are my special abomination, is another; and I should not have thought you would have wished it either." "It would be so much experience; I could be in it but not of it. But I expect I should not be smart enough, either in my dress or my talk; so we must decline, I suppose. What shall I say?" "Anything you like within the limits of truth." "Paul won't come, and I can't because I have not a proper frock," said Sally, merrily. "I am sorry, and he is not." "Don't talk nonsense, Sally," said Paul, with an answering laugh. "Any woman can write a decent note of refusal if she chooses."