They walked round the back of the house, and presently came upon a second lawn. Across this was laid a narrow footway of planks. As they approached a figure was seen wheeling a small barrow of earth toward an embryonic flower bed. The figure came to the end of the causeway, upset his load with a professional side-twist, and then wiped his brow. "I believe that is always done," he said apologetically to the lady, who had halted with her cavalier: "one picks up a wrinkle here and there. Your gardener, for instance, showed me how the navvies unload their barrows, correcting my natural impulse to upset it straight ahead."
"Do you feel tired?" asked Miss Arkwright critically: there was no sympathy in her tone.
"The masses are used to that," answered Tony. "In time, no doubt, I shall learn the trick of doing the maximum of work with the minimum of effort. No, I can't say I am especially tired; it's rather a healthy feeling on the whole."
"You're making a bit of a mess of the lawn," observed Lionel, his glance falling on a scarred patch.
"Ah! that was in the apprentice stage," said Tony airily. "The barrow ran off the plank, and this narrow wheel cuts. Of course I am always open to learn, and if you----"
"Mr. Mortimer is a guest, not a serf," Miss Arkwright reminded him. Tony bowed.
"I apologize. For a moment I had forgotten class distinctions. Beg pardon, mum! By your leave, sir! I must be gettin' back to my job."
He trundled the barrow briskly out of sight to where a mound of soil awaited his efforts. He was soon back, however, and another load of soil was deposited dexterously upon the growing bed.
"You're still obstinate," said the lady, smiling.
"Meaning----?" He paused, shovel in hand.
"That you won't give any account of yourself."
"Why should I?" asked Tony innocently. "I am the slave of a perfectly charming despot"--he bowed again with grace, despite his costume and the mud stains. "I am well housed and fed. I have nothing special to do. I am regaining the rude health of youth----"
"But you have to _work_!" Lionel reminded him with a laugh. "And judging from your hands I don't think you've done much of that in your life."
"It is a popular error to speak of manual laborers as 'the working classes.' There is such a thing as brain-work--no! I don't press the point. As a matter of fact, I am rather attracted by this kind of work--for a change. Perhaps, when I regain my freedom, I shall then take up some sort of work as a hobby."