"And now, Ridgeley, if it's not an impertinent question from an old
fellow who's interested in your welfare, what _are_ your own plans? I
remember you telling me when you first came out here you were anxious to
take to farming. Is this still your idea, or has your year of
adventure--and, by Jove, you have had some adventures too!--unsettled
you, unfitted you for anything but a wandering life?"
"Rather the other way, Mr Kingsland. The old idea holds good more than
ever. I would like above all things to get on a farm."
"You would, eh? Well now, look here, Ridgeley. You've learnt a good
deal, but you've still a good deal to learn. I wouldn't help you in
this line at the time you landed, because, as I told you, I had two boys
of my own, who were amply sufficient to manage things. Now Tom, as I
also told you, is leaving me, and setting up on his own hook, and it
occurs to me that if you'd like to come and take his place for a spell,
and help Arthur and myself, you are heartily welcome to do so. You'd be
learning your business, and also you could see whether you still liked
going into the life altogether."
Was Gerard standing upon air, or only upon very solid and rather dry
ground? He himself could hardly have told. Could he believe his ears?
Did he grasp aright the other's meaning? Why, such an arrangement as
that suggested, apart from being in itself just the very thing that
suited him thoroughly, would mean a sojourn beneath the same roof as
May, and that for an indefinite period. He managed, however, to reply
coherently, and to the effect that he considered himself most fortunate,
etc., etc.
"Well, think it over," was the reply, "and if you're in the same mind
this day week--by which time I expect you will have had about enough of
town life--drop us a line, and follow it yourself. We are leaving for
home to-morrow, and shall expect to hear from you in any case when you
have made up your mind."
When he had made up his mind! The only part of the arrangement which
did not commend itself to Gerard was this very delay. A week is a
pretty short time--but to him, under the circumstances, it seemed an
age.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
We must now take leave of our friend, Gerard Ridgeley, and we do so in a
spirit of prophecy. We need hardly predict that he will betake himself
to Doorn Draai at the expiration of that week, there to learn farming
under the auspices of Mr Kingsland, for it is too obvious that he will
inevitably do so. But, having done so, what we venture to predict, in
no uncertain mind, is that he will inevitably make his way. To this we
will append another prophecy; no, rather we will only hint at one--but
softly, cautiously, for are we not treading on delicate ground? and the
future is uncertain. Be it remembered, however, that Gerard is young,
and rather a fine fellow--And have we not said that May Kingsland is a
very pretty and sweet girl?
The End.