“Where have you been, Joe, since that dreadful night when the old rookery was torn down over our heads, and we lost each other?”
“Everywhere, Rob. I am so thankful now that you saved me from the workhouse that I cannot say anything.”
“It was not I, Joey, but this kind gentleman, Deacon Cornhill.”
“I wish to thank you, sir. If you will only come home I am sure mother will do it much better than I can. Poor mother! how she must have been worrying about me.”
“How is she, Joe?”
“No better, Rob. And I have been away all day. You will go home with me?”
“Yes; that is, as soon as I have showed this gentleman to Bradford’s.”
“Don’t stop to do that, my son. Go home with the leetle one first. If she don’t object, I’ll go along with you.”
“Of course I don’t object, and mother will be glad to see you. How you have grown since I saw you last.”
“No more than you, Joe. Why, you are almost as tall as mother now. But, as we walk along, you must tell us how you were brought up before the recorder. Chick, you will go with us.”