Raymond was somewhat impressed.

“Fancy a kid like you knowing anything about botany,” he said.

“I don’t,” answered the child.  “I’m only just beginning.  Why, I haven’t mastered the grasses yet.  The flowers are easy, of course, but the grasses are ever so difficult.”

They returned to Ironsyde’s plans.

“And when d’you weigh in?” queried his friend.

“That’s the point.  That’s why I invited myself to lunch.  Daniel doesn’t want me in the office at Bridport; he wants me here—­at Bridetown—­so that I can mess about in the works and see a lot of John Best, the foreman, and learn all the practical side of the business.  It seems rather footling work for a man, but he did it; and he says the first thing is to get a personal understanding of the processes and all that.  Of course I’ve always been keen on machinery.”

“Good, then we shall see something of each other.”

“That’s what I want—­more than you do, very likely.  The idea was that I went to Uncle Ernest, who is willing to let me have a room at ’The Magnolias’ and live with him for a year, which is the time Daniel wants me to be here; but I couldn’t stick Churchouse for a year.”

“Naturally.”

“So what do you say?  Are you game for a paying guest?  You’ve got tons of room and I shouldn’t be in the way.”

“How lovely!” cried Estelle.  “Do come!”

Arthur Waldron was quietly gratified.

“I’m sure I should be delighted to have a pal in the house—­a kindred spirit, who understands sport.  By all means come,” he said.

“You’re sure?  I should be out most of my time at the blessed works, you know.  Could I bring my horse?”

“Certainly bring your horse.”

“That reminds me of one reasonable thing Dan’s going to do,” ran on the other.  “He’s going to clear me.  I told Aunt Jenny it was no good beginning a new life with a millstone of debts round my neck—­in fact we came down to that.  I said it was a vital condition.  Aunt Jenny had rather a lively time between us.  She sympathises with me tremendously, however, and finally got Daniel to promise he would pay off every penny I owed—­a paltry two hundred or so.”

“A very sporting arrangement.  Make the coffee, Estelle, then we’ll take a walk on the downs.”

“I’m going to Uncle Ernest to tea,” explained Raymond.  “I shall tell him then that I’m not coming to him, thanks to your great kindness.”

“He will be disappointed,” declared Estelle.  “It seems rather hard of us to take you away from him, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t you worry, kiddy.  He’ll get over it.  In fact he’ll be jolly thankful, poor old bird.  He only did it because he thought he ought to.  It’s the old, traditional attitude of the Churchouses to the Ironsydes.”

“He’s very wise about church bells, but he’s rather vague about flowers,” replied Estelle.  “He’s only interested in dead things, I think; and things that happened long, long ago.”