It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing person who could cross a bridge without stopping to look over when a reel was joyfully proclaiming that some fisherman was having luck.
It was a man, and he walked as though he were footsore and tired. There was something dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his clothes looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting.
Tony stared after the stranger, and gradually he realised that there was something familiar in the back of the tall figure that walked so slowly and yet seemed trying to walk fast.
The man had a stick and evidently leant upon it as he went. He wore an overcoat and carried nothing in his hand.
Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the other anglers ran towards him with a landing-net.
But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, with a deep sigh, he started to follow him.
Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. Dauncey had landed his trout.
The sun came out from behind the clouds. "The Full Basket," the river, brown and rippled, the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the bank below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried, were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and did not look round again.
William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay, he preferred "a dly place."
Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she did