"Well, I was thinking only last week it was about time for you to turn up; and where's Phil, and the rest of your party?"
"Well, Mr. Jasper, father and mother are coming to-morrow, so they say, and they sent Phil and me on to get things straight; only Phil's gone to the station now to carry a bag, and he thinks he'll get threepence for that; because, you see, Mr. Jasper, we've got to keep ourselves to-day and to-morrow, and we've taken our old room down at No. 20; and so I've come for our goods."
"And where have you been this turn, eh?"
"Please, Mr. Jasper, we've tramped about as usual, through Hampshire and Wiltshire, and lately we've been fruit-picking and hopping in Surrey and Kent; and mother has sold things out of her basket, and Phil and I have sung; and so we've got along nicely. But I'm oh so glad to be back home again."
"Home, eh? And is that what you call Helmstone?"
Rob was silent for a moment, but then replied slowly,—
"Well, you see, Mr. Jasper, 'tisn't Helmstone so much as you and the Mission Hall."
Jasper laughed.
"A queer mixture," said he. "However, I'm real glad to see you back, Rob. Sit down a bit till I've finished my pipe, and then we'll see to your chattels."
Quickly Rob obeyed, and curling himself up against one of the barrels, sat, looking supremely happy to be once more in the company of his old friend. For they were fast friends, Rob and Jasper, in spite of the nearly seventy years that lay between them. Perhaps, if the truth were told, that child could do more with the old man than any one living. Phil, too, was a favourite, but Rob stood first in Jasper's affection; and it was a real pleasure to him when the cold weather put an end to the Mellors' wandering life, and brought them back to that wretched attic in Preece's Place which Rob had called "home."