"My little Joan is very unhappy," he said, half in a whisper. "The old white horse is to be sold. Do you see her there yonder? How I wish I could buy the old mare and give her to Joan!"
"That would be a very unwise thing for you to do," said Hieronymus.
"Yes," said David. "And do you know, I've been thinking of what you said about her going out into the world. And I found this advertisement. Shall I give it to her?"
Hieronymus looked at it.
"You're a dear fellow, David," he said warmly. "Yes, give it to her. And I too have been thinking of what you said to me. I've told her a little of my story, and she knows now how my heart is altogether taken up with my past. So, if I've done any harm to her and you, I have tried to set it right. And to-morrow I am going home. You will see me off at the station?"
"I'll be there," said the exciseman.
But there was no sign in his manner that he wished to be rid of Hieronymus. The historian, who all unconsciously won people's hearts, all unconsciously kept them too. Even Auntie Lloyd, to whom he had been presented, owned that he "had a way" about him. (But then he had asked after her sciatica!) He spoke a few words to Joan, who stood lingering near the old white mare. She had been a little shy of him since he had talked so openly to her; and he had noticed this, and used all his geniality to set her at her ease again.
"This is my last afternoon," he said to her, "and I have crowned the achievements of my visit here by choosing a red pig. Now I'm going back to the big barbarous world to boast of my new acquirements--brewing beer, eating pastry, drinking beef-tea, cutting up the beans, making onion pickles, and other odd jobs assigned to me by Queen Elizabeth of the Green Dragon. Here she comes to fetch me, for we are going to drive the red pig home in the cart. Then I'm to have some tea with rum in it, and some of those horrible Shropshire crumpets. Then if I'm alive after the crumpets and the rum, there will be a few more odd jobs for me to do, and then to-morrow I go. As for yourself, little secretary, you are going to put courage into your heart, and fight your battles well. Tell me?"
"Yes," she said; and she looked up brightly, though there were tears in her eyes.
"Do you know those words, 'Hitch your wagon to a star?'" he said. "Emerson was right. The wagon spins along merrily then. And now good-bye, little secretary. You must come and see me off at the station to-morrow. I want all my friends around me."