“Jack,” she replied, “whither thou art will I be.”
“And that shall be—whither?” asked Dr Thorpe. “It must be no whither within Cornwall or Devon.”
“But we have not enclosed,” objected Avery, answering rather his thoughts than his words.
“I doubt,” he answered, “whether they shall wait to ask that.”
“For me,” Avery resumed, “I have friends in London, and Isoult likewise; and if I thought it should be long ere we may turn again, thither should I look to go rather than otherwhere. But an’ it be for a few weeks, it should be unworth so long a journey.”
“Weeks!” cried Dr Thorpe. “Say months, Jack, or years. For my part, I look not to see Bodmin again. But there be thirty years betwixt thee and me.”
“In that case,” said he, “and methinks you have the right—I say, London, if Isoult agree therewith. There should be room in that great city, I account, for both you and me to ply our several callings.”
“Whither thou wilt, be it, Jack,” said his wife, softly. “But Mother, and Hugh, and Bessy! And Frances at Potheridge, and Mrs Philippa at Crowe—what is to come of them, and who shall warn them?”
Dr Thorpe shook his head.
“Little time for all that, Mrs Avery,” answered he. “Send, an’ you will, to the two places—Potheridge and Crowe; but leave Potheridge to warn Wynscote, and Wynscote to warn Matcott and Bindon.”