"Don't you mention Polly no more," said John, in a rough hoarse voice which did not sound like his own.
His mother lifted her tired eyes, full of a new sorrow, but his face was hidden in his hands, and she could read nothing there.
"I met Polly on the road last night," he said. "We had words, and no wonder. All's broke off between us two. So now you know, mother, and just please to say no more about it."
"Oh, my boy, it's a double trouble," sighed Mrs. Randal, while the fresh tears welled up in her sore and aching eyes.
Presently John went out of the house, and she sat brooding over the fire, falling half asleep now and then from utter weariness. From this dozing state she was suddenly roused by those three little taps on the door. It seemed to her at first that she was dreaming.
"Who's there?" she said in a low voice.
Then the latch was lifted, the door opened very slowly, inch by inch, and a fair little face looked in.
"Mother!" said Lily.
Mrs. Randal, in breathless surprise, was still holding the child in her arms when Mr. Bland followed her into the kitchen.
"Here we are, among old friends," he said, his kind face alight with smiles. "How are you to-day, Mrs. Randal? And where's John?"