“Well, Jeremy,” he said, letting his soft black eyes wander round that young gentleman’s gigantic form—for it was by now painfully large—not so much in height, for he was not six feet three—as in its great width, which made big men look like children beside him, and even dwarfed his old grandfather’s enormous frame—“well, Jeremy, what do you think of doing? You are too big for a lawyer; all your clients would be afraid of you.” “I don’t know about being too big,” said Jeremy, solemnly, “but I know that I am too great an ass. Besides, I can’t afford to spend several years in being articled at my time of life.” “Quite so. Then what do you propose doing?” “I don’t know from Adam.” “Well, how would you like to turn your sword to a plough-share, and become a farmer?” “I think that would suit me first-rate. I have some capital laid by. Ernest and I made a little money out there.” “No, I would not advise you to take a farm in that way; these are bad times. But I want a practical man to look after my land round here—salary £150. What do you say?” “You are very kind; but I doubt if I can boss that coach; I don’t know anything of the work.” “Oh, you will very soon learn; there is a capital bailiff; Stamp—you remember him—he will soon put you up to the ropes. So we will consider that settled.” Thus it was that our friend Jeremy entered on a new walk in life, and one which suited him very well. In less than a year’s time he grew aggressively agricultural, and one never met him but what he had a handful of oats, or a mangel-wurzel in his coat-tail pocket, which he was ready to swear were samples of the finest oats, mangel-wurzel, or whatever the particular agricultural product might be that ever had been, or were ever likely to be, grown. CHAPTER VI. HOW IT ALL CAME ABOUT How did it all come about? Let us try and discover. Dorothy and Ernest were together all day long. They only separated when Mazooku came to lead the latter off to bed. At breakfast-time he led him back again, and handed him over to Dorothy for the day. Not that our Zulu friend liked this; he did not like it at all. It was, he considered, his business to lead his master about, and not that of the “Rosebud,” who was, as he discovered, after all nothing but a girl connected with his master neither by birth nor marriage. And on this point there finally arose a difference of opinion between the Rosebud and Mazooku. The latter was leading Ernest for his morning walk, when Dorothy, perceiving it, and being very jealous of what she considered her rights, sallied out and took his hand from the great Zulu’s. Then did Mazooku’s long-pent indignation break forth.