“There’s all our money gone,” he said; “and I’ll never trust anybody again. I wish I hadn’t bought that ferret. You see if it don’t cheat us too, and run away. This makes eight times we’ve come to look for old Lom, and he must be— What?”
“Look,” I said eagerly. “I knew he couldn’t do such a thing. There he is in that cart.”
Sure enough, there was the sergeant; and then as the cart drew nearer, it was pulled up, and the old man leaped down, thanked the farmer for giving him a lift, and walked toward his cottage, carrying a big long carpet-bag.
“Ah, Mr Lomax!” I cried, as I hurried towards him, but he laid his finger to the side of his nose, nodded, frowned, unlocked his door and went in.
“There, that’s how he always goes on now,” said Mercer spitefully. “It was all gammon, and he never meant to teach us, and we shan’t be able to serve those two out. Come on.”
We were moving off disconsolately, I with quite a feeling of pain in my breast, when a voice said, “Hi!” and, looking round, there was the sergeant beckoning to us.
My heart seemed to leap again, and I hurried back.
“How are you both?” he said, putting his hand in his pocket and taking out a flat steel tobacco-box which opened with a spring. “I had to go up to town more than a week ago to an inspection and about my pension, and while I was up I thought I’d go and see my sisters, and then I thought I’d go and see about those—you know what.”
“And did you?” I cried eagerly.
“Wait a moment,” he said, taking out four shillings and handing them to us—two to each. “I did write about them, and they asked so much that I wrote to another place, and they were dear too; and then, as I had to go up, I went to a place I remembered, and saw the man, and told him what I wanted, and he brought out two pairs of his best, which had been in the shop three years, and got faded to look at, but he said they were better than ever, and he let me have ’em for thirteen shillings.”