“No.—Hurray!”
“Nor you neither, my good women?”
“Nay, God bless thee, no!” was chorused.
“Then good-bye! And if one of you will run down to our place and tell us how the little child is by and by, I’ll be glad.”
“Nay, thou’llt shake han’s wi’ me first,” said the big virago-like woman, whose drenched clothes clung to her from top to toe.
“That I will,” cried Uncle Jack, suiting the action to the word by holding out his; but to his surprise the woman laid her hands upon his shoulders, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and kissed him in simple north-country fashion.
“God bless thee, my mahn!” she said with a sob. “Thou may’st be a Lunnoner, but thou’rt a true un, and thou’st saved to-day as good a wife and mother as ever stepped.”
Here there was another tremendous cheer; and to avoid fresh demonstrations I snatched my clothes from the woman who held them, and we hurried off to get back to Mrs Stephenson’s as quickly and quietly as we could.
Quickly! Quietly! We were mad to expect it; for we had to go home in the midst of a rapidly-increasing crowd, who kept up volley after volley of cheers, and pressed to our sides to shake hands.
That latter display of friendliness we escaped during the finish of our journey; for in spite of all Uncle Jack could do to prevent it, big as he was, they hoisted him on the shoulders of a couple of great furnacemen, a couple more carrying me, and so we were taken home.