THE ARRIVAL AT BLACKBURN FARM.
A YEAR had passed since Mr. Barton had brought home his bride and her little son to Afton Hall. Once more it was early spring; once more the crocuses and daffodils were in bloom, and old John Bawdon was turning over the brown earth with his spade, and musing, meanwhile, on the changes which the past twelve months had brought about. He thought of the day on which Jane had informed her little master in his presence of the existence of his stepbrother, and remembered how anxious and uneasy he had himself felt at the sight of Theodore's rebellious face, with its flashing grey eyes and determined mouth.
At the further end of the garden two figures were to be seen at that moment—boys' forms—one taller, and sturdier than the other. The old man smiled contentedly at the sight, for the two were Theodore and Jack. The latter was, happily, no longer an invalid, for the London doctor had been right in his opinion; and under his treatment Jack had slowly gained strength, until there had come a never-to-be-forgotten day, when he could walk a few steps with the help of crutches. The crutches had been discarded altogether, several months ago now, and though Jack still looked delicate, especially beside his stepbrother, who was a perfect picture of robust health, he was able to move about unaided, and improved in vigour day by day. He now joined Theodore in his lessons, walking to the Nest with him to receive instruction from Miss Penelope. Mr. Barton talked of engaging a tutor for the boys later on, but there was time enough to think of that; for the present, the existing arrangement seemed satisfactory.
"To think how I worried at the thought of a new mistress," ruminated old John Bawdon, "and the blessing she's been to us all! Well, 'tis wrong to doubt the ways of the Almighty! He knows best!" He leaned on his spade, and looked at the boys. "They make a pretty pair," he thought, "but anyone can tell which is the leader. Master Theodore has a masterful way with him, to be sure, and 'tis easy to see Master Jack takes a pattern by him—not but what Master Jack has a mind of his own, too, although he always seems so gentle and tender-hearted!"
Presently the boys approached the old man, and began to talk with him. He was generally full of anecdotes and stories about things which had happened in his youth, and knew so many interesting facts about birds, and animals, and flowers, that he was a most entertaining companion.
On this occasion Theodore commenced the conversation by asking:
"Were you ever on Dartmoor, John?"
"Yes, sir," was the prompt reply, whilst a smile lit up the old man's withered countenance; "I was born at Naraton, and that's right in the midst o' the hills."
"Were you, indeed? I never knew that!"
"Very likely not, sir! Your grandfather owned a farm on Dartmoor, the same that belongs to your father now, near the little village of Naraton, and my father was a labourer, who worked on the estate. I mind when your grandfather was a small boy, he used to come and stay at the farm 'long with his mother, for the sake of the bracing air, and many a ramble he and I have had across the moors together. He took quite a fancy to me, and that's how it was I came to be so fortunate as to get employment here—a lad was wanted to make himself generally useful about the place, and I got the job. I've been here ever since, and hope to remain as long as I live. Was I ever on Dartmoor, indeed!" the old man exclaimed, chuckling at the thought; "aye, was I!"