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The potatoes on the ploughed land had done well, and now that the hoeing was finished they presented a picture of which Robert as its author was justly proud. A strip had been left for the cultivation of kumaras, and on this Robert was busily engaged. He had worked the soil up into long ridges during the past week, and was now employed in the pleasant operation of putting out the sets at regular intervals all down the ridges. The tubers had been started in a piece of rich soil near the house, and now and then, as his work demanded, Robert came down to the bed for a fresh supply of shoots.

He was returning from one of these visits when he caught sight of a large straw hat and a black stocking between the slip-rails. Lena Andersen, for it was she, came through the vegetable garden and greeted him with a little serious nod.

‘Oh, Robert!’ she exclaimed.

‘How beautiful you look, Lena!’ Robert said soberly.

It was a wonderful November morning, with just sufficient movement in the air to soften the intensity