CHAPTER IV.
ROWDON SMITHY.
Though the four youngsters fancied that they had been wandering for hours in the cold and darkness, the time of their relief was early in the evening. Work was not yet over for somebody at the smithy. The forge was set up in a large building, which looked a sort of superior shed, open on the side next to the road, and with a paved court, worn by the tread of many horses, in front of it. Gazing across the unwalled court to the open shed, Frances saw in the brilliant light of the smithy fire a young man busily engaged with hammer and anvil; his tall, slight figure, in rough working dress, bent and raised with almost mechanical precision as his supple right arm swung its ponderous tool. When the lumbering waggon halted before the court, the worker paused in his labour, throwing back his head and screening his eyes with his free left hand, to gain a better view of the arrival. The waggoner called out a hasty summons, and the young smith left his forge and quickly crossed the yard.
“Anything wrong, Job?”
The lad’s voice was clear and soft, and his speech, though rustic in expression, conveyed no trace of dialect; while his face, now plainly visible in the lantern’s glow, appeared a singularly pleasant one. Its attraction increased when Max’s lively countenance was thrust forward by its owner, and when Max shouted a gay greeting.
“Hallo, Jim!—Jim East! Look out for a sensation! Here’s a snowed-up party of four humans and one animal come to beg help and shelter!”
Max had jumped down and was pouring out explanations in a moment. The young smith listened and looked, and shyly doffed his cap, standing bare-headed in the driving snow while his eyes rested in astonishment on the figures of the two girls.
“The little ladies!” murmured Jim; “they’ve never been with you, Master Brenton?”
“Haven’t they, though! They’ve found out what a snowstorm on Rowdon Common means, I can tell you. But I’m afraid they are very cold and tired,” added Max seriously. “I was beginning to think it was all up with us when I first caught sight of Job. Well, Jim, will you help us?”
“Surely!” exclaimed the lad.
Though evidently bashful, Jim East had nothing clownish about him. His manner showed a simple courtesy which pleased and reassured the girl-travellers, as he stepped close to the waggon and held up his strong, lithe arms.