A little later Harry set off for Oxford, to bring certain necessities for Ted and himself down to Nuneham, for he meant to take up his abode at the inn, so that he would be near the Hartleys, and be able to render every possible service to them and to Ted. Before he started, however, he underwent quite an ordeal. Feeling he had no right to assume that Ted would stay until he had that permission from Mr. Hartley personally, he sought him out, where he was at work in a corner of the meadow, and the result, as he had anticipated, was a very plain talk--so unsparingly and pointedly plain that Harry winced a good deal in the process, and once or twice came near resenting a mode of procedure that seemed very much akin to knocking a fellow when he's down. But, after all, what did he not deserve, and as Mr. Hartley said, among other things, that he was not the man to turn a body out of his house, and that Mr. Morris was welcome to stay, he felt he ought to be able to bear with the rest, no matter how humiliating and, in a measure, unmerited. Mrs. Hartley, standing in the kitchen door, imagined from Harry's flushed face, as well as from life-long acquaintance with Mr. Hartley's temperament, that he had been pretty severely dealt with, and so said as he passed, “My gude man's a gude man, though,” Mr. Allyn and Harry, amused at the loyalty to her husband and kindliness to him combined in the speech, had the grace to answer, “Indeed I believe you, Mrs. Hartley.”