"Well met!"
The next instant he was shaking hands with Tom Turpin, back on leave from France again.
"Is there room for two on that stone?" asked the young soldier, and, Billy assenting eagerly, they sat down together. "I arrived home the day before yesterday," he continued, his blue eyes looking lovingly across the valley to Mount Farm on the opposite hill. "I can tell you it's good to be home, my boy! How beautiful everything is! 'The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.' This is a blessed land, Billy. Where I have come from there will be no harvest—all is desolation and ruin. Here there is plenty, and oh, the peacefulness of it all!"
There was a note of sadness in Tom's voice, whilst his eyes had a wistful expression in them. For a minute his face was clouded, then it cleared, and he went on—
"Father's behind, talking to your grandfather, but he'll join me presently. Meanwhile, tell me about yourself. I've heard of the great marrow you grew. I wish I'd been home in time to see it. I've just come from your grandfather's garden. It's a picture worth looking at. Your grandfather always grew good vegetables, but this year they're just splendid."
"I helped plant some of them," said Billy proudly.
"So I've heard," smiled Tom Turpin; "your grandfather says you've done a lot of real hard work."
"Thanks to your tools!" exclaimed Billy. "I couldn't have done half so much without them. I've taken great care of them, Mr. Turpin; they are as bright as bright!"
Tom Turpin looked pleased.
"You seem remarkably 'fit,' Billy," he said; "you're rather different now from the timid little chap I remember. You've grown a couple of inches, I should say, and your face is almost as brown as mine. You look happy, too."