"She means to be kind," thought the boy.
And her kindness apparently had some effect. The farmer looked round, after a deep draught of beer, and pushed his tankard aside.
"Will you have a sup, Jim?" he said good-naturedly. "I can't promise it you every day; but for once in a way."
"No, thank you," Geoff replied. "I never take beer; moth——" but he stopped suddenly.
"As you like," said the farmer; "but though you're not thirsty, I dare say you're hungry."
He cut off a slice of the cold meat before him, and put it on a plate with some potatoes, and a bit of dripping from a dish on the table. The slice of meat was small in proportion to the helping of potatoes; but Geoff was faint with hunger. He took the plate, with the steel-pronged fork and coarse black-handled knife, and sat down again by the dresser to eat. But, hungry though he was, he could not manage it all. Half-way through, a sort of miserable choky feeling came over him: he thought of his meals at home—the nice white tablecloth, the sparkling glass and silver, the fine china—and all seemed to grow misty before his eyes for a minute or two; he almost felt as if he were going to faint, and the voices at the table sounded as if they came from the other side of the Atlantic. He drank some water—for on his refusing beer, Mrs. Eames had handed him a little horn mug filled with water; it was as fresh and sweet as any he had ever tasted, and he tried at the same time to swallow down his feelings. And by the time that the farmer stood up to say grace, he felt pretty right again.
"And what are you going to be about, Eames?" said Jowett. "I'll walk round the place with you, if you like. I must take the four train up again."
"All right," the farmer replied; "Jim can take you to the station when he goes to fetch the cans. You'll see that he doesn't come to grief on the way. Do 'ee know how to drive a bit?"
"Oh yes," replied Geoff, eagerly. "I drove a good deal last summer at—in the country. And I know I was very fond of it."
"Well," said the farmer, drily, "you'll have enough of it here. But the pony's old; you mustn't drive him too fast. Now, I'll tell one of the men to show you the yard, and the pig-sties, and the missis'll show you where she keeps the swill-tub. It'll want emptying—eh, wife?"