Chapter Two.
How Jenny fared the first evening.
“Well, for sure, Aunt Persis will be some fain to see you!” said Tom Fenton, as he and his uncle, old Anthony, went forward up the hill. “But whence come you, now, Uncle? Are you very weary? Eh, but I’m glad you’ve won home safe!”
“God bless thee, my lad! Ay, He’s brought me home safe. A bit footsore, to be sure, and glad enough of rest: but gladder to be suffered to do His will, and minister to His suffering servants. Whence come I? Well, from Kidderminster, to-day; but—”
“Dear heart! but you never footed it all the way from Kidderminster?”
“No, no, dear lad. A good man gave me a lift for a matter o’ eight miles or more. But, dear me! I mind the time I could ha’ run nigh on a mile in five minutes, and ha’ trudged my forty mile a day, nor scarce felt it. I reckon, Tom, lad, thou’rt not so lissome as I was at thy years. Well, to be sure! ’Tis all right; I’m only a good way nearer Home.”
They walked on together for a few minutes in silence. Tom’s thoughts had gone back from the momentary pleasure of welcoming his uncle, to whom he was greatly attached, to his sore disappointment about Jenny.
“What is it, Tom?” said the old man quietly.
“Oh, only a bit of trouble, Uncle. Nought I need cumber you with.”