“Bah! you’re always repining, and I think life’s far too scrappy to waste it in grumbling. When you take growing-up time off—teething, distemper, and lots of things come to you whether you want ’em or you don’t; then there’s meal times, sleeping, and sometimes you have to take physic—O! my, life’s very short, when you take off all these things. Just see what a glorious morning it is! Whoop, there! I see a rat?”
And off trotted Tony in full pursuit of a rodent which had made for his hole, leaving the little dog to fume and fret and bark himself hoarse all to no purpose.
“That’s Tony to a nicety. There never was such a scamp in this world. But he’s a good-tempered little creature for all that. He’s so nice and frisky. I try, but I suppose I’m growing old. Now, if I was to try to be unselfish and funny, I wonder how I’d feel—Bah! but I will!”
Now as the cart was laden Farmer John sprang up, and the horse that started pulling him was Simon certainly, but what a changed creature was he. He fairly charged the hills instead of crawling up them, and then he took the high road as if he had springs in his hoofs, and his dinner was awaiting him at home.
[Illustration: _Tony racing after a Rabbit._]
“Why, Giles,” said the farmer on nearing home, “what’s all this fuss about? Why is the garden gate open, and why is all this fuss going on here?”
“Why, young Mr. Harry’s come home! Oh! master, master, an’ he’s growed a man, and he’s that big an’ strong an’ grand, he’d make two of me, master!”
“What!” said the farmer, springing from his seat. “Well, I’m blest—Hal? Why, old Simon, you must have smelt him—for I’ve never seen you skip up the road like that. Oh! Hal! Hal! my lad—why, you are a man indeed! My bonny lad—” as a stalwart fellow came forward to greet him.
“Father!” cried his son, and the two men clasped hands.
“Why, it’s thee, it’s thee, Harry!” and tears crept into the farmer’s voice.
You see it was ten years since Harry Fairfax had left home, a stripling, and now he had returned a sunburnt hearty man with a strong mellow voice, and eyes that were bright and merry and kind.
“Hasn’t he grown big, father?” said Mrs. Fairfax, mopping her eyes with a big roller towel she was busy folding when her son arrived. Then she flicked a stray bit of down which had blown upon his coat sleeve, flicked it away, and stroked the arm with a proud feeling of possession. “Do come into the house, Harry dear, and get a rest while I see to a bit of dinner. Father, I do believe this is the happiest day of my life.”