92 Lurnaside Cottage.

T had earned. I escaped from the room as soon as
I could, and went to my old refuge in my childish
troubles—Monna’s stall. There, with my head on
her shoulder, I sobbed over my grievances until it
was too late to go to Mr. Iurst—too late to do
anything but creep up to bed, and there indulge in
a fresh burst of sobs, until I quicted myself by a
resolution to let garden, crops, everything go, and
to stick to nothing but my learning,

But when I told Mr. Ilurst something—not all—
of my disappointment, and added my resolution
about work, he was not pleased, as I fancied he
would be.

“This must not be, this must not be,” he said.
“Would he cat the bread of idleness when he can
help towards his own maintenance? Methinks he
should be proud to know that he helps his father.”

Before T left him he made me promise to work
on at the garden, giving to book-learning only the
time that I could rightly spare from my other
employments ; and when I wanted money to stock
the garden with, to tell my father so, and ask him
to give it me out of the sale of the produce,