“And a very good thing they did, to put a stop to such doings as never was,” said Mrs Hewlett’s voice. “Bless me, the dear children and the ladies might have been burnt in their beds!”
“Come in, Johnnie, and have a bit of supper,” said George Hewlett.
“And tell us all about it,” said his wife. “We’ll give you a shake-down for the night if you can’t go home.”
John was thankful, and Mrs Hewlett set before him a good meal of bread, cheese, cold bacon, and beer; but he was too dull and dejected, as well as much too tired, to be able to talk, and scarcely could remember all that had happened. He knew it was not manners to put his head down on his arms on the table, but he really could not hold it up, and he had dozed off almost with the food in his mouth.
“Poor chap! He’s fair worn out,” said the elder George. “Make his bed ready, mother.”
And when it was ready, the younger George absolutely kicked him into being awake enough to tumble into it. Even then his sleep was for a good while tossing, dreamy, and restless; but, by-and-by, it grew sounder, and he lay so still in the morning that his kind hostess hindered her boys from disturbing him. He had not long been awake, and had only said his prayers, and washed at the pump, when horses’ feet were heard, and Cousin George called to him to come out and speak to the captain. He came, with hair wringing wet, and shy, awkward looks.
“My lad,” said the captain, “I cannot tell you how much I thank you for your bravery and spirit the night before last. You did me and mine a benefit that I shall always remember, though I feel it would just be insulting you to offer you any present reward! Nor, indeed, could it be sufficient for what you have done.”
“Thank you, sir,” mumbled John, hardly knowing what he or the captain said.
“And,” added Captain Carbonel, “your father got away. If he is taken, what you have done for us may be remembered in his favour.”
Again John managed to say, “Thank you, sir.” And the captain rode off to offer the like thanks to Tirzah Todd; but her cottage was shut up, the donkey gone, and she, with her husband and Hoglah out on a broom-selling expedition. He was not clear of the riot, and she did not want him to hear her thanked. They must have gone away with their gipsy kin, for they never came back while the Carbonels were in England, and only a sovereign could be left for them with Mr Harford, who promised to stand Tirzah’s friend if any opening for assisting her offered.