‘Had to see the captain, and—other duties,’ said the trumpet-major, in a tone which showed no great zeal for explanations.
‘Well, come in, however,’ continued the miller, as his son remained with his hand on the door-post, surveying them reflectively.
‘I cannot stay long,’ said John, advancing. ‘The Route is come, and we are going away.’
‘Going away! Where to?’
‘To Exonbury.’
‘When?’
‘Friday morning.’
‘All of you?’
‘Yes; some to-morrow and some next day. The King goes next week.’
‘I am sorry for this,’ said the miller, not expressing half his sorrow by the simple utterance. ‘I wish you could have been here to-day, since this is the case,’ he added, looking at the horizon through the window.