The reception was so strange, the little lady’s ways so droll, that, in spite of the weariness of her journey and the trouble hanging over her young life, Julia had felt amused; but the next moment she was clinging to little Mrs Thickens, warmly returning her embrace and feeling a girlish delight in the affectionate caresses showered upon her by her mother’s simple old friend.
The stay was but short, for Millicent Hallam was trembling to see her old home and those she loved once more.
How little changed all seemed! A dozen years had worked no alterations. The old shops, the old houses, just the same.
Yes, there was one change; Mr Gemp sitting at his door, not standing, and with movement left apparently in one part only—his head, which turned towards them, with a fixed look, as they went down the street, and turned and followed them till they were out of sight.
“How I recollect it all!” whispered Julia, as she held her mother’s arm. “That old man who used to make Thisbe so cross. Walk more quickly, mamma, he is calling out our name to some one.”
It was true; and, as the words seemed to pursue them, Julia uttered an angry ejaculation, as she heard a sob escape from her mother’s breast.
“Hi! Gorringe, here’s that shack Hallam’s wife come down. Quick! dost ta hear?”
Bayle had stayed back with Thickens to allow his travelling companions to go to the cottage alone, or these words might not have been uttered.
And as they appeared to come hissing through the air, Millicent Hallam seemed to realise more and more how Bayle had been their protector, and how she had done wisely in fleeing from the little town, where every flaw in a man’s life was noted and remembered to the end.
“How dare he?” cried Julia indignantly; and her young eyes flashed. “Mother, we ought not to have come down here.”