"I'm very glad to hear it." said Benny." It's not safe as it is at present."
"No, no; you're quite right there."
Then there was an awkward pause, and Benny began to feel uncomfortable. Mr. Munroe was the first to speak.
"I wanted to see you here," he said, "to have a little conversation with you about—about—yourself," bringing out the last word with a jerk.
Benny did not know what reply to make to this, so he said nothing.
"I understand you have not always lived in the country?" questioned Mr. Munroe.
"No, sir; I lived in Liverpool till I was twelve or thirteen years of age."
"And how do you like farming?"
"Very well, I think; but really, I've scarcely thought about it."
"You are not uncomfortable, then?"
"Oh, no! far from it. Mr. and Mrs. Fisher took me in when I was houseless, homeless, friendless, and all but dead, and ever since have treated me with the utmost kindness. I have a better home now than I ever had before in my life, and as for the work I do, I feel that it's but poor compensation for the kindness bestowed upon me."
"You have no wish, then, to be anything different from what you are?"
"I did not say so, sir; but as I have no expectation of being other than what I am, I try to be content."
