“Ay,” and grinned, and walked on.
He entered his mother’s cottage, and she was expecting him. The lamp was lighted and a grand tea spread. There was fresh boiled beetroot, tinned salmon, salad, cake, and a large treacle tart. She embraced him and said:
“Well, Ned! Ye’re back then.”
He replied, “Ay.”
“Ye’re lookin fine,” she said. “What a fine suit they’ve given ye!”
“Ay,” he replied.
“I expect you want yer tea?”
“Ay.”
He had dropped his kit-bag, and he moved luxuriously round the little parlor, looking at all the familiar objects. Then he sat down, and his mother brought the large brown tea-pot from the hob and they had a cozy tea. She told him all the very latest news of the village, and all the gossip of the countryside, and Ned grinned and listened. He said nothing at all. The tea had progressed to the point when Ned’s mouth was full of treacle tart when his mother suddenly stopped, and said:
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I have somethin’ distressin’ to tell ye, dear.”