"I wouldn't say that altogether," she answered. "My children's more Huxam than Pulleyblank; but Thomas, my eldest boy—who died so brave doing his duty two years ago—he was very like me."
"The daps of his mother was our dear Thomas," added Barlow. Then he sighed.
"Thomas was all Pulleyblank, same as I am," continued Mrs. Huxam. "A good young man."
"A sad loss for you," said Mrs. Bullstone.
"No; don't think that. I'm not one of those who say, 'What Thou doest we know not now.' That's too grudging to the Lord. I know where Thomas went, and faith is but an idle word if it can't help you to face the Divine Will. When God sends for a young man, his mother ought to be gay and proud to let him go."
"No doubt, no doubt," murmured Mrs. Bullstone.
"Faith is a fine thing carried to such a pitch," admitted Jacob.
"Yes," assented Barlow Huxam, "but, all the same, when you think on the details of that fatal catastrophe, you feel bound to say, 'What Thou doest we know not now.' For look at it. What happened? Our Thomas sees a runaway hoss with a trap behind it, and a man and woman in the trap. And like the chap he was, without a thought of self, he goes for the creature's head. But he was carried off his legs in an instant moment, and though he stopped the hoss and saved the man and woman alive by so doing, the shaft struck him under the ribs and he lived but three hours afore he went to his reward. And who did he save? He saved Squire Blake's son and a scarlet woman he was driving to Plymouth; and Marsden Philip Blake was drunk as a lord at the time, else the badly used hoss wouldn't have run away."
"All true," said Judith quietly, "and to the common eye it will always be matter for wonder that Providence worked like that. But no wonder to me. Marsden Blake's not forgot. He was saved for a deep reason, and before we die, we shall know it."
"He was up here with the otter hounds last week," said Jacob Bullstone.