“We’ll take your advice,” he said, at last, with immense solemnity.
Lacrima looked at him wistfully. Her face was very pale and her lips trembled.
“It isn’t only because of the child, is it, that he’s ready to go?” she murmured, clutching at Vennie’s arm, as Mr. Quincunx retired to make his brief preparations. “I shouldn’t like to think it was only that. But he is fond of me. He is fond of me!”
CHAPTER XXVIII
LODMOOR
It was Mr. Quincunx who had to find the money for their bold adventure. Neither Vennie nor Lacrima could discover a single penny on their persons. Mr. Quincunx produced it from the bottom of an old jam-pot placed in the interior recesses of one of his deepest cupboards. He displayed to his three friends, with not a little pride, the sum he was possessed of,—no less in fact than five golden sovereigns.
Their walk to Yeoborough was full of thrilling little excitements. Three times they concealed themselves on the further side of the hedge, to let certain suspicious pedestrians, who might be Nevilton people, pass by unastonished.
Once well upon their way, they all four felt a strange sense of liberation and expansion. The little Neapolitan walked between Mr. Quincunx and Lacrima, a hand given to each, and her childish high spirits kept them all from any apprehensive brooding.
Once and once only, they looked back, and Mr. Quincunx shook his fist at the two distant hills.