The ruddy-faced man turned quickly, then caught the young soldier's hand and wrung it.
"Master Tom!" he cried, evidently delighted. "Ah, how glad your parents will be!"
"Won't they?" smiled Tom. "But I'm keeping you! Are you going on?"
"No, sir. I'm here to meet my grandson—my dead son's little boy—who's just lost his mother, poor child!"
"Oh, please, that's me!" cried Billy, stepping forward.
The ruddy-faced man gazed at the boy earnestly a minute, then gave a satisfied nod.
"Aye," he said, "I see the likeness to your father."
He took one of the little boy's hands in his work-hardened palm, and pressed it affectionately.
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Tom Turpin. "Now, why didn't I guess who he was? But he didn't say you lived at Ashleigh! And there are so many Browns! Why, we've travelled down from Paddington together and got quite friendly. And, now, how are you going to get home—by train?"
"No, sir. I've Jenny and the market trap outside the station."