That afternoon Joshua was at the rectory, having just trotted over after business hours at the brewery because of some special word which had to be whispered to Molly, and Harry put himself in his way as he went out to get on his horse in the stable-yard.  “Joshua,” he said, “I know that I owe you an apology.”

“What for?”

“You have been awfully good to me about the horses, and I have been very ungracious.”

“Not at all.”

“But I have.  The truth is, I have been made thoroughly miserable by circumstances, and, when that occurs, a man cannot pick himself up all at once.  It isn’t my uncle that has made me wretched.  That is a kind of thing that a man has to put up with, and I think that I can bear it as well as another.  But an attack has been made upon me which has wounded me.”

“I know all about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, as you and Molly are going to hit it off together.  There is a girl I love, and they have tried to interfere with her.”

“They haven’t succeeded?”

“No, by George!  And now I’m as right as a trivet.  When it came across me that she might have—­might have yielded, you know,—­it was as though all had been over.  I ought not to have suspected her.”

“But she’s all right?”

“Indeed she is.  I think you’ll like her when you see her some day.  If you don’t, you have the most extraordinary taste I ever knew a man to possess.  How about the horse?”

“I have four, you know.”

“What a grand thing it is to be a brewer!”

“And there are two of them will carry you.  The other two are not quite up to your weight.”

“You haven’t been out yet?”

“Well, no;—­not exactly out.  The governor is the best fellow in the world, but he draws the line at cub-hunting.  He says the business should be the business till November.  Upon my word, I think he’s right.”

“And how many days a week after that?”

“Well, three regular.  I do get an odd day with the Essex sometimes, and the governor winks.”

“The governor hunts himself as often as you.”

“Oh dear no; three a week does for the governor, and he is beginning to like frosty weather, and to hear with pleasure that one of the old horses isn’t as fit as he should be.  He’s what they call training off.  Good-bye, old fellow.  Mind you come out on the 7th of November.”

But Harry, though he had been made happy by the letter from Florence, had still a great many troubles on his mind.  His first trouble was the having to do something in reference to his uncle.  It did not appear to him to be proper to accept his uncle’s decision in regard to his income, without, at any rate, attempting to see Mr. Prosper.  It would be as though he had taken what was done as a matter of course,—­as though his uncle could stop the income without leaving him any ground of complaint.  Of the intended marriage,—­if it were intended,—­he