‘My cottage,’ said Wal. ‘The wife has taken the young one, and has probably put her in bed ere this.’
‘You are very kind to us,’ said Edgar.
‘I shouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t do all I could for you,’ said Wal. ‘I’ll bet you’d have done as much for me.’
‘I should have done my best,’ said Edgar.
‘I know it, lad, and therefore there is all the more pleasure in helping you. Mind the path here, it’s a bit rough and steep,’ said Wal.
When they reached Wal Jessop’s cottage, Edgar felt exhausted, and sank helplessly into the easy-chair Mrs. Jessop placed ready for him. Tears stood in her eyes as she looked at Edgar’s youthful face, and thought of those who would mourn him as lost until they learned the truth.
‘Poor lad!’ she said in a whisper to Wal. ‘He’s worn out, and no wonder. You must get him into bed, and I’ll make something hot for him.’
‘He’ll be best there,’ said Wal. ‘Here goes!’
He lifted Edgar out of the chair, and carried him into a small bedroom. He helped him off with his clothes, such as they were, all ragged and torn, and wrapped him in the blankets. Mrs. Jessop brought him a bowl of beef-tea and bread, and after Edgar had done justice to it, he fell into a sound sleep.
‘Wonder who he is?’ said Mrs. Jessop. ‘He’s a fine lad.’