These conferences and lectures went on from day to day, and from the time they commenced John Tincroft began to amend. I am not quite sure that his internal schoolmaster did not—or rather, I am not quite of opinion that he did—receive some assistance from no less a personage than the good old stout Baptist lady at Jericho, who, having been brought into personal acquaintance with the veritable son of the dear little Josiah at Saddlebrook, desired to make his further acquaintance if the gownsman of Queen's would so far condescend as to notice one so far beneath him.
John did not profess to condescend, and he would not have known how to do it, if he had tried. It was out of his line, he said, and so it was; but his good-nature induced him to give ear to the request; and the subsequent intercourse with the pleasant and not vulgar, though fat, proprietress of "Rippon's Selection" redounded to John's advantage, though, perhaps, he was not at the time conscious of it.
Not that he had anything further to learn about the signature, which had, by the promptitude of Mr. Roundhand, been duly and legally attested. That subject was altogether exhausted and done with, so far as John was concerned. Neither did good Mrs. Barry and John enter into any discussions respecting the differences which existed between their several and separate religious communities. Indeed, if the compilation of hymns just referred to had not so constantly lain on Mrs. Barry's table, as her favourite book next to the Bible, John would almost have forgotten all about his new friend being a Baptist.
But the charm of the intercourse was that, in the company of the motherly old lady, John could forget his isolation and loneliness, and receive sympathy and kindly regard from one of the softer sex, without the possible intrusion of such wild vagrant thoughts as those which had entranced, yet troubled him, at High Beech Farm.
And so, as we have said, three months passed away the short vacation was over, and with the commencement of Lent term came up Tom Grigson, fresh from the field, and fit for the first week to talk of nothing else but horses, dogs, foxes, and hares.
"By the way, Tincroft, I have been back a week or more, and you have never spoken a word nor asked a question about your old friends at High Beech. Where's your curiosity?"
"I have not thought much about them lately," said John, reddening rather. "The truth is—" he added, and then he stopped short with, "I suppose there is nothing new to tell."
"Isn't there, though? For one thing, it is all done and done for with Mark Wilson."
"I am sorry to hear it. Your brother carried out his threat, then?"
"No, not so bad as that. Brother Dick's bark is worse than his bite generally; and it was so in this case. I don't think in any case he would choose to sell up an old tenant, at least he never has done it. And as to Mark Wilson, the truth is he would have got very little by it, for the live and dead stock, crops and implements altogether, if sold, wouldn't much more than have paid expenses. No, he didn't sell him up. But the fact is, things had got so bad that a week or two before Christmas, Mark himself came and offered to put himself into Dick's hands, to do what he liked with him and his belongings."