But now in a moment it seemed as if the labour of those patient months had been dashed to the ground, and his guardian’s bitter words branded themselves on his heart as he paced on out of the shadow of the noble minster into the dusk of the city.
Trimble, nearly bursting with excitement—for he had overheard all the latter part of the conversation—crept after him. What a time he was having!
Jeffreys bent his steps almost aimlessly out of the city into the country beyond. It was only half-past seven, and Teddy and Freddy were expecting him. He had not the heart to fail them, though he would gladly have remained solitary that evening. The Roshers lived in a small cottage some distance down the lane in which six months ago Jeffreys had first encountered the sunshine of their presence. How long ago it seemed now! Ah! that was the very bank on which he sat; and there beyond was the railway embankment at which the navvies were working, now finished and with the grass growing up its sides.
Trimble’s little heart jumped to his mouth as he saw the man he was following stop abruptly and begin to climb the bank. He was too close behind to be able to turn back. All he could do was to crouch down in the ditch and “lie low.” He heard Jeffreys as he gained the top of the bank sigh wearily; then he seemed to be moving as if in search of a particular spot; and then the lurker’s hair stood on end as he heard the words, hoarsely spoken,—
“It was this very place.”
What a day Jonah was having! After a quarter of an hour’s pause, during which the patient Jonah got nearly soaked to the skin in his watery hiding-place, Jeffreys roused himself and descended into the lane. Any one less abstracted could not have failed to detect the scared face of the spy shining out like a white rag from the hedge. But Jeffreys heeded nothing and strode on to Ash Cottage.
Long before he got there, Freddy and Teddy, who had been on the look-out for him for an hour, scampered down to meet him.
“Hurrah, Jeff!” shouted Teddy (I grieve to say that these irreverent brethren had long ago fallen into the scandalous habit of calling their teacher by a familiar contraction of his proper name, nor had the master rebuked them). “Hurrah, Jeff! we were afraid you weren’t coming.”
“The tricycle won’t go,” said Freddy; “we’ve pulled it all to bits, and tried to make it right with a hammer, but it’s very bad.”
“It’s glorious you’ve come to do it. Isn’t Jeff a brick, Teddy?”