"It's only my head, sonny; you needn't be frightened," he would gasp, in his hoarse, croaking whisper. "I was just wandering a bit, I think. Sick folk often does that. There, deary, don't cry! we'll soon be at home now—ay, soon, very soon," murmured the little man to himself, while that faint, sweet smile, which Darby thought made the haggard face quite beautiful, played around his poor parched lips, and a glad light shone from his sunken eyes.
In the afternoon the good-natured bargeman brewed a can of tea. Along with it he produced some solid slices of bread and butter—the best his locker afforded—and to this repast he made his passengers warmly welcome. Joan ate a hearty meal, but Darby was not hungry, and the dwarf could take only a deep draught of the strong, hot tea. It revived him somewhat, so that by the time the barge slowed up at Firdale he was able, with the help of Darby's willing hand, to creep out of his bunker up on deck.
The Smiling Jane was in that evening rather before her regular time. There were, therefore, none of the idlers on the wharf who usually awaited her arrival, only a few people, beside the wharf-keeper, who had come to receive or send off stuff. These were too much occupied to notice, except by an amused or curious glance, the odd-looking trio who slipped so quietly through their midst and away up the field-path towards Firgrove. Indeed, had not bargee, after their backs were turned, told their story and made known their identity to an open-mouthed and delighted audience, no one would have suspected that the two little ragamuffins in company with the outlandish-looking mountebank were the lost children whose tragic fate had cast quite a gloom over the neighbourhood, and elicited such universal sympathy with the ladies at Firgrove and the poor bereaved father fighting for his country far, far away in Africa.
It was almost sunset when the little travellers reached their journey's end. The western sky was ablaze with crimson and gold, the hilltop was flushed with warmth and beauty, the streak of sluggish water which was the canal lay athwart the level land like a shining, jewelled belt, while every window-pane in the quaint old house shone and glowed as if there were an illumination within by way of welcome for the wanderers.
But Darby and Joan heeded none of these things. They trudged sturdily on as fast as their short legs could carry them and the dwarf's failing strength would permit, until they came to the gate. There they paused, with their backs to the glory of the sun-setting, the blush on the hilltop, and the radiance beyond. For now they knew that at last they had found the country they had travelled so far to seek, while all the time it was spread out wide and fair about their very feet, shut up within themselves, whence it should well forth in an atmosphere of obedience, love, duty—the chief elements which go to make a truly happy land.
CHAPTER XV.
BAMBO'S FRIEND.
"After the night comes the morning,
After the winter the spring;
We can begin again, Dolly,
And be sorry for everything.
"We love, and so we are happy;
No beautiful thing ever ends;
'Tis good to cry and be sorry,
But better to kiss and be friends."