"Ah, Mr. Philip!" said Mr. Deane, when they entered the dining-room, "I've not seen you for a long while. Your father's not at home, I think, is he? I went after him to the office the other day, and they said he was out of town."
"He's been to Mudport on business for several days," said Philip; "but he's come back now."
"As fond of his farming hobby as ever, eh?"
"I believe so," said Philip, rather wondering at this sudden interest in his father's pursuits.
"Ah!" said Mr. Deane, "he's got some land in his own hands on this side the river as well as the other, I think?"
"Yes, he has."
"Ah!" continued Mr. Deane, as he dispensed the pigeonpie, "he must find farming a heavy item,–an expensive hobby. I never had a hobby myself, never would give in to that. And the worst of all hobbies are
