It was true that the master still lent him books, and the servant still gave him lectures on horticulture.

But Riccabocca had no time nor inclination now to amuse himself with enlightening that tumult of conjecture which the books created.

And if Jackeymo had been covetous of those mines of gold buried beneath the acres now fairly taken from the squire (and good-naturedly added rent-free, as an aid to Jemima's dower), before the advent of the young lady whose future dowry the produce was to swell, now that she was actually under the eyes of the faithful servant, such a stimulus was given to his industry that he could think of nothing else but the land, and the revolution he designed to effect in its natural English crops.

The garden, save only the orangetrees, was abandoned entirely to Lenny, and additional labourers were called in for the field work.

Jackeymo had discovered that one part of the soil was suited to lavender, that another would grow camomile.