“Do not pain the earl by any allusion to this subject for the present,” cried her ladyship.
“I promise not to do so.”
And so the interview ended.
Patty Jamblin, who had returned with Aveline, did not remain long at Broxbridge Hall. She was anxious about her father, and on the following day hastened at once to Stoke Ferry Farm.
The honest old farmer was almost beside himself with joy when his eyes lighted on the sweet and innocent face of his only child.
She was the only solace he had in his declining years, and for her he seemed to live. Patty was pleased to find that the old man was looking very much better than she expected to see him.
It had been a sore trial, the loss of his son Philip, but he had borne up against the misfortune with great fortitude, and appeared to be more himself.
“I dunno how I shud ’a got on wi’out ee,” said the farmer, “hadn’t it a bin for John Ashbrook. He took compassion on the old man, ye zee, and has gi’en me as much of his company as he could well spare.”
“I’m sure it’s very kind of him,” said Patty, “and I shall always feel grateful for the timely service he has rendered. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he be here.”