'There are three inns,' answered the man, 'but all full as an excursion train on Good Friday. The poor folks that ha' been turned o't haase by t' water ha' been ta'en into 'em. Where art 'a going, sir?'
'To the house of Mr. Pennycomequick,' answered Philip.
'Right you are,' said the porter, 'Mrs. Baynes is also boun' to t'same, and I can take t'whole bag-o'-tricks on one barrow.'
Philip turned to Janet Baynes with an impatient gesture, which with all his self-control he was unable to repress, and said:
'You are going to Mr. Pennycomequick's, I understand, madam.'
There was no avoiding it. The tiresome association could not be dissolved at once, it threatened to continue.
'Yes,' answered Janet, 'I spent all my life there till I married, and my mother and sister are there now.'
'Not relations of Mr. Pennycomequick?'
'Oh dear no. He has been like a father to us, because our own father was killed by an accident in his service. That was a long time ago, I cannot remember the circumstance. Ever since then we have lived in the house. We always call Mr. Pennycomequick our uncle, but he is no real relative.'
Philip strode forward, ahead of the porter; from the station the road ascended at a steep gradient, and the man came on slowly with the united luggage. Janet quickened her pace, and came up beside Philip.