“Yes; but we must keep him out of trouble, even home-made ones, which don't leave good marks, you know,” said Tom.
“And thaay be nine out o' ten o' aal as comes to a man, sir” said David “as I've a told Harry scores o' times.”
“That seems to be your text, David,” said Tom, laughing.
“Ah, and 'tis a good un too, sir. Ax Miss Winter else. 'Tis a sight better to hev the Lord's troubles while you be about it, for thaay as hasn't makes wus for themselves out o' nothin'. Dwon't 'em, Miss?”
“Yes; you know that I agree with you, David.”
“Good-bye, then,” said Tom, holding out his hand, “and mind you let me hear from you.”
“What a queer old bird, with his whole wisdom of man packed up small for ready use, like a quack doctor,” he said, as soon as they were out of hearing.
“Indeed, he isn't the least like a quack doctor. I don't know a better man in the parish, though he is rather obstinate, like all the rest of them.”
“I didn't mean to say anything against him, I assure you,” said Tom; “on the contrary, I think him a fine old fellow. But I didn't think so this morning, when he showed me the way to Betty's cottage.” The fact was that Tom saw all things and persons with quite a different pair of eyes from those which he had been provided with when he arrived in Englebourn that morning. He even made allowances for old Mr. Winter, who was in his usual querulous state at luncheon, though perhaps it would have been difficult in the whole neighborhood to find a more pertinent comment on, and illustration of, the constable's text than the poor old man furnished, with his complaints about his own health, and all he had to do and think of, for everybody about him. It did strike Tom, however, as very wonderful how such a character as Katie's could have grown up under the shade of, and in constant contact with, such a one as her father's. He wished his uncle good-bye soon after luncheon, and he and Katie started again down the village—she to return to her nursing and he on his way home. He led his horse by the bridle and walked by her side down the street. She pointed to the Hawk's Lynch as they walked along, and said, “You should ride up there; it is scarcely out of your way. Mary and I used to walk there every day when she was here, and she was so fond of it.”
At the cottage they found Harry Winburn. He came out, and the two young men shook hands, and looked one another over, and exchanged a few shy sentences. Tom managed with difficulty to say the little he had to say, but tried to make up for it by a hearty manner. It was not the time or place for any unnecessary talk; so in a few minutes he was mounted and riding up the slope towards the heath. “I should say he must be half a stone lighter than I,” he thought, “and not quite so tall; but he looks as hard as iron, and tough as whipcord. What a No. 7 he'd make in a heavy crew! Poor fellow, he seems dreadfully cut up. I hope I shall be able to be of use to him. Now for this place which Katie showed me from the village street.”