THE clay works adjoining Beaworthy extended over many acres of ground, and were a source of great wealth to their owner—Mr. Marsh—who, however, was seen there only occasionally, for he employed an outdoor manager in whom he had implicit confidence. One hot July afternoon he arrived unexpectedly upon the scene of operations, driving in his dog-cart with his little son by his side, and called a man off his work to come and hold the horse.
"I can do that, father," said Edgar eagerly; "Darkie is very quiet, I can manage him all right."
"I daresay you can," Mr. Marsh admitted, for the horse, though spirited, was free from vice, "but I should not be satisfied to leave you in charge alone. I may keep you waiting some time, and if so Darkie will probably grow fidgety."
So the man—a thin, pale-faced man he was—took up his position at the horse's head, and stroked the creature's sleek neck. Darkie was a strong, brown cob, with a mealy nose and a satin-smooth coat. Edgar, who, at his mother's suggestion, was taking a half-holiday from school, thought his father might have trusted him alone with Darkie. The boy was not looking well, and he seemed in very poor spirits. For some minutes after Mr. Marsh had left him he did not speak; but at last he turned his attention to his companion, and inquired his name.
"Caleb Glubb, sir," was the response.
"Why, you are the man who had that bad accident back in the spring, then!" Edgar exclaimed, interested at once. "I've heard all about you from my cousins, and I know where you live. Are you quite well now?"
"Yes, thank you, sir, though not so strong as I was before my accident, perhaps. I was in hospital a long while, and after I came out I wasn't fit for work for weeks. Sickness does pull one down and no mistake. Ah, your cousins were very good to my poor wife in her trouble! There are not many children so kind as they are, but Sarah—that's my wife—says they're brought up to be feeling-hearted."
"What could they do for her?" asked Edgar. "Did they give her money?"
"They did, sir." The man's pale countenance brightened into a smile, and his voice bespoke his gratitude. "Would you believe that they actually saved their pocket-money and gave it to Sarah? Yes, that's what they did, and we're not likely to forget it."
"Was it much?" questioned Edgar; "but no, they get very little money to spend."