“Well,” said Peter, “I must be goin’.” But he did not move.
“Well, good night, Peter,” said Joshua, encouragingly.
“Good night, Mr Snell.”
“Good night, Peter,” said Lilac at length, nodding to him, and this seemed to rouse him, for with sudden energy he hurled himself towards the door and disappeared.
“Yon’s an honest lad and a fine worker,” remarked the cobbler, “but he do seem a bit tongue-tied now and then.”
And now, after the tune was played, there was no longer any excuse to put off going home. For the first time in her life Lilac dreaded it, for instead of a smile of welcome she had only a frown of displeasure to expect from her mother. It was such a new thing that she shrank from it with fear, and found it almost as difficult to say goodbye as Peter had done. If only Uncle Joshua would go with her! Her face looked so wistful that he guessed her unspoken desire.
“Now I shouldn’t wonder,” he said, carefully thrusting the clarionet into its green baize bag, “as how you’d like me to go up yonder with you. And it do so happen as how I’ve got a job to take back to Dan’l Wishing, so I shall pass yours without goin’ out of my way.”
Accordingly, the door of the cottage being locked, the pair set out together a few moments later, Lilac walking very soberly by the cobbler’s side, with one hand in his. Joshua’s hand was rough with work, so that it felt like holding the bough of a gnarled elm tree, but it was so full of kindness that there was great comfort and support in it.
How would Mother receive them? Lilac hardly dared to look up when they got near the gate and saw her standing there, and hardly dared to believe her own ears when she heard her speak. For what she said was:
“Run in, child, and get yer tea. I’ve put it by.”