'Only the Eltons,' she said. 'I thought, from the way you called out, I was going to see something wonderful. My dear boy, for pity's sake, don't look so intense!'
'I am afraid I can't help my looks,' said Tom a little stiffly. 'Shall we go back to the house? It is getting damp here. You will be having your rheumatism again.'
'Yes, discretion is the better part of valour,' said Mrs. Gregory. 'Give me your arm, Tom. I am not so young as I was once. You know, dear'—apologetically—'you mustn't mind what I say about your looks. To me it is just the same, though, of course, I don't like to see you dreamy and romantic, for I know to what these things tend. I was so once myself.'
'And it hasn't brought you to any great harm, little mother.'
'I don't know that, Tom. However, I am a woman, and I had friends to look after me—not that they always—but that is neither here nor there. You, my poor dear, know what is before you. A man in your position, with his way to make in the world, must keep all his wits about him, or he will soon find himself nowhere.'
'A country about which I have always been rather curious,' said Tom, to whom these admonitions were not new. 'How if I tried a little wool-gathering, just to have a look in?'
'Oh, well, you may laugh; but you will remember my words some day, and I only hope it may not be too late for your own comfort. And now, perhaps, you will take your letter.'
'A letter for me!' said Tom. 'Why'—scrutinising it—'this looks important—blue paper, black seal!'
'I thought it rather funny myself,' said Mrs. Gregory. 'But don't stare at it, child! Open and read it!'
'Come inside first,' said Tom.