“A house at Timberdale?”
“Either in the neighbourhood of Timberdale or Crabb, Dr. Lewis writes: or he wouldn’t mind Islip. I saw his letter. Jacob says there’s nothing vacant at Timberdale at all likely to suit. We have been thinking of that little place over here, that the people have just gone out of.”
“What little place?”
“Maythorn Bank. ’Twould be quite large enough.”
“And it’s very pretty,” added the Squire. “Thomas Lewis coming back! Wonders will never cease. How he could reconcile himself to staying away all his life, I can’t tell. Johnny lad, he will like to see you. He and your father were as thick as inkle weavers.”
“Ay! Ludlow was a good friend to him while he was doing nothing,” nodded old Coney. “As to his staying away, I expect he could not afford to live in England. He has had a legacy left him now, he tells the parson. What are you asking, Johnny?”
“Did I ever know Dr Lewis?”
“Not you, lad. Thomas Lewis went abroad ages before you were born, or thought of. Five-and-twenty years he must have been away.”
“More than that,” said the Squire.