‘Bring him out here,’ said the minister.  ’Our air here is good to a proverb; the June days are fine; he may loiter away his time in the hay-field, and the sweet smells will be a balm in themselves—­better than physic.’

‘And,’ said cousin Holman, scarcely waiting for her husband to finish his sentence, ’tell him there is new milk and fresh eggs to be had for the asking; it’s lucky Daisy has just calved, for her milk is always as good as other cows’ cream; and there is the plaid room with the morning sun all streaming in.’  Phillis said nothing, but looked as much interested in the project as any one.  I took it upon myself.  I wanted them to see him; him to know them.  I proposed it to him when I got home.  He was too languid after the day’s fatigue, to be willing to make the little exertion of going amongst strangers; and disappointed me by almost declining to accept the invitation I brought.  The next morning it was different; he apologized for his ungraciousness of the night before; and told me that he would get all things in train, so as to be ready to go out with me to Hope Farm on the following Saturday.

‘For you must go with me, Manning,’ said he; ’I used to be as impudent a fellow as need be, and rather liked going amongst strangers, and making my way; but since my illness I am almost like a girl, and turn hot and cold with shyness, as they do, I fancy.’

So it was fixed.  We were to go out to Hope Farm on Saturday afternoon; and it was also understood that if the air and the life suited Mr Holdsworth, he was to remain there for a week or ten days, doing what work he could at that end of the line, while I took his place at Eltham to the best of my ability.  I grew a little nervous, as the time drew near, and wondered how the brilliant Holdsworth would agree with the quiet quaint family of the minister; how they would like him, and many of his half-foreign ways.  I tried to prepare him, by telling him from time to time little things about the goings-on at Hope Farm.

‘Manning,’ said he, ’I see you don’t think I am half good enough for your friends.  Out with it, man.’

‘No,’ I replied, boldly.  ’I think you are good; but I don’t know if you are quite of their kind of goodness.’

’And you’ve found out already that there is greater chance of disagreement between two “kinds of goodness”, each having its own idea of right, than between a given goodness and a moderate degree of naughtiness—­which last often arises from an indifference to right?’

’I don’t know.  I think you’re talking metaphysics, and I am sure that is bad for you.’

’"When a man talks to you in a way that you don’t understand about a thing which he does not understand, them’s metaphysics.”  You remember the clown’s definition, don’t you, Manning?’

‘No, I don’t,’ said I.  ’But what I do understand is, that you must go to bed; and tell me at what time we must start tomorrow, that I may go to Hepworth, and get those letters written we were talking about this morning.’