"The worst of it is I can get so little help," he said; "there isn't a fit man left in the village for me to employ. That means that I shall have to work doubly hard during the coming winter and spring."
"Don't you think I could help you, Grandfer?" Billy inquired eagerly.
"You?" William Brown looked at his grandson with a slightly amused smile. "Well, I don't know about that," he said doubtfully. "Harold helps his father in his allotment garden, but he's very strong for his age, whilst you're such a delicate little chap—"
"Oh, Grandfer," Billy burst in, "I do believe I'm stronger than I look! Oh, let me help you! Let me try, at any rate! I want so much to do something to help win the war!"
"Well, we'll see what you're fit to do," was the cautious response.
With that Billy had to be satisfied for the time. They were descending the hill to Rowley Cottage by way of the pathfields now, and a few minutes later found them in the orchard, where Jenny was browsing contentedly. She allowed Billy to put his arm around her neck and caress her. His grandfather looked on, rather anxiously at first, then with great satisfaction.
"She's taken to you very well, Billy," he said. "You'll be able to do anything with her, you'll find."
"Shall I?" cried Billy, delighted. "Do you think she'd let me ride her, Grandfer?"
"I shouldn't wonder! You shall try one of these days, perhaps!"
They entered the house by the back door. Mrs. Brown was in the kitchen, dishing dinner. She was very hot, and looked exceedingly ill-tempered.