The carriage rattled on, and in a short time drew up before the sexton’s lodge at the great gate of the churchyard.
The old man still sat before the door; but he was smoking, and his bald head and long white beard were enveloped in smoke.
He took the pipe from his mouth the instant he heard the sound of wheels and he held out his hand to welcome Wynnette as she ran up to him.
“Ah, my little leddy; I ha’ read the lad’s letter! Ah! I do get a letter by mail fra’ ’m coome the first week on every month! But a letter brought by a leddy’s hand and she ha’ seen him face to face mayhap within a month! Ah! but that’s better!”
“I have seen your son and shaken hands with him, and talked to him for hours, within twenty-three days,” said Wynnette, after making a rapid calculation.
“Eh, now! is thet possible?”
“I rode on his train all day on the twenty-sixth of May, two days before we sailed for England. And this, you know, is the eighteenth of June.”
“Eh, then! look at thet, noo! Only in twenty-three days! He’s not thet far away, after all, is he, me leddy?”
“Oh, no. Why, it’s nothing! Only across ‘the big herring pond,’ you know.”
The old man stared helplessly.