"Brought the lads home quite safe, captain," said old Teggley Grey.

"Shall I take Mars Robert's box on to the town, doctor?"

The old carrier remained unanswered, for we were both being heartily shaken by the hand, while old Sam came up smiling to carry in my box.

"Yes, take on the other box, Grey," cried the doctor. "We shall walk home, Bob."

"After a good tea," put in my father; and I found that meal awaiting us all, and very hearty and cosy it looked after the formal repasts at school.

"Why, you've both grown," said the doctor, as we sat down in the snug old room, where every object around seemed to be welcoming me.

"Yes, that they have," said my father. "Your Bob has the best of it too."

"Trifle," said the doctor, "trifle. Well, sir, how many suits of clothes shall you want this time? I've never heard any more of the ones you lost."

I saw Bob turn red and take a vicious bite out of a piece of bread and b.u.t.ter.

"They're nearly six months older now," said my father smiling, as he performed the feminine task of pouring out the tea, "and they'll be more careful."

"Will they?" said the doctor emphatically. "You see if the young varlets are not in trouble before the week's out, sir."

"Let's hope not," said my father. "Come, boys, help yourselves to the ham and eggs."

"Come, boys, help yourselves to the ham and eggs!" said Bob Chowne to me, as soon as we were alone. "Who's to help himself to ham and eggs when he's having the suit of clothes he lost banged about his unfortunate head? It regularly spoiled my tea."

"Why, Bob," I cried, "you had three big cups, six pieces of bread and b.u.t.ter, two slices of ham, three eggs, a piece of cake, and some cream."

"There's a sneak--there's a way to treat a fellow!" he cried, growing spiky all over, and snorting with annoyance. "Ask a poor chap to tea, and then count his mouthfuls. Well, that is mean."

"Why, I only said so because you declared you had had a bad tea."

"So I did--miserable," he retorted. "I seemed to see myself again sitting at home in those old worn-out clothes, and afraid to go out at any other time but night, when no one was looking."

"Now, Bob: where are you?" cried his father. "I'll take him off at once, Duncan, or he'll eat you out of house and home."

"Hear that?" cried Bob, "hear that? Pretty way to talk of a fellow, isn't it. I don't wonder everybody hates me. I'm about the most miserable chap that ever was."

"Not you, Bob. Come over to-morrow."

"What for?"

"Oh, I don't know. We'll go rabbiting or something."

"Now, Bob!" came from the doctor.

"Here, I must go. Good-bye. I'll come if I can. I wish I was you, or old Bigley, or somebody else."

"Or back at school," I said laughing.

"Yes, or back at school," he said quite seriously; and then his arm was grasped by his father.

"Just as if I was a patient," he grumbled to me next day. "Father don't like me. He only thinks I am a nuisance, and he's glad when I'm going back to school. I shall run off to Bristol some day and go to sea, that's what I shall do."

But that was the next day. That evening I stood with my father at the gate till Bob and his father were out of sight in the lane, and then we went back into the parlour, where my father lit his pipe and sat smoking and gazing at me.

"Well, Sep," he said after a pause, "don't you want to know how the mine is getting on?"

"Yes, father," I said; "but I didn't like to ask."

"Well, I'll tell you without, my boy. I've not got much profit out of it at present, because the expenses of starting have been so great; but it's a very fine thing, my boy."

"Is it going to make you rich, father?"

"I hope so, boy, for your sake. There's plenty of lead, and out of the lead we are able to get about four per cent of silver."

"Four per cent, father!" I said; "what--interest?"

"No, boy, profit. I mean in every hundred pounds of lead there are four pounds of pure silver, but of course it costs a good deal to refine."

"And may I go and see it all to-morrow?" I asked.

"To be sure; and I hope, after a year or two, you will be of great use to me there."

I felt as if I could hardly sleep that night when I went to bed. There had been so much to see about the place, so much talk to have with old Sam and Kicksey, that it hardly needed the thought of seeing the mine next day to keep me awake.

I thought I should never go to sleep, I say; but I awoke at half-past seven the next morning, feeling as if I had had a thoroughly good night's rest, and as soon as breakfast was over I started with my father on a dull soft winter's morning to see the mine.

Bob and Bigley were to come over; but I felt that it would be twelve o'clock before Bob came, and that I should meet Bigley; so no harm would be done in the way of breaking faith in the appointment.

We walked sharply across the hill and descended into the Gap, but before we had gone far we met old Jonas Uggleston.

"Morning!" he said pleasantly. "Morning, squire!" to me. "Seen my Bigley yet?"

"No."

"Ah! He has gone your way. Tell him I want to see him if he comes."

We said we would, and old Jonas went his way and we ours.

"Why, father," I said, "how civil he has grown!"

"Yes," said my father gravely, "he has; but I would almost rather he had kept his distance. Don't tell your school-fellow I said that."

"Of course not, father," I said confidently; and we went on to the mine--the silver mine, and I stood and stared at a part of the valley that had been inclosed with a stone wall. There were some rough stone sheds, a stack of oak props, and a rough-looking pump worked by a large water-wheel, which was set in motion by a trough which brought water from the side of the hill, where a tiny stream trickled down.

There was one very large heap of rough stone that looked as if barrows full of broken fragments were always being run along it, and turned over at the end, for the pieces to rattle down the side into the valley; there was a small heap close by, and under a shed there was a man breaking up some dirty wet stuff with a hammer.

That was all that was to see except some troughs to carry off dirty water, and the rough framework and trap-doors over what seemed to be a well.

"Why, Sep," said my father laughing, "how blank you look! Don't you admire the mine?"