“What, have you got a Mevagissey pie ag’in for dinner?”
“Yes, Sam,” she replied.
“Now, that’s curious,” Sam said.
I could almost have felt certain that I knew what he was doing when he spoke those words in that way. He must have taken off his hat and begun scratching his head reflectively with the other hand, I’m certain!
“Curious?” repeated Jane. “Why?”
“Why, because we had it for dinner when the poor laddie left us.”
“Deary me!” exclaimed Jane, her voice full of alarm. “There’s no tidings of any harm come to he, surely!”
“No, no, Jane, my woman,” said he, “the lad’s all right; ’fact, I’ve—I’ve seen him this morning.”
“This morning!” cried she, all excitement. “Why, what are you holding the door back for? It’s him—he’s here!”
And, in another moment, my second mother, as I shall always call her, was clinging round my neck with almost more than a mother’s love for me—if that were possible!