“I came over from the Place;” and Tom was so tired and desperate he had no heart or time to think of a story, so he told all the truth in a few words.
“Bless thy little heart! And thou hast not been stealing, then?”
“No.”
“Bless thy little heart! and I’ll warrant not. Why, God’s guided the bairn, because he was innocent! Away from the Place, and over Harthover Fell, and down Lewthwaite Crag! Who ever heard the like, if God hadn’t led him? Why dost not eat thy bread?”
“I can’t.”
“It’s good enough, for I made it myself.”
“I can’t,” said Tom, and he laid his head on his knees, and then asked—
“Is it Sunday?”
“No, then; why should it be?”
“Because I hear the church-bells ringing so.”