After a day or two, Tom hobbled out into the garden. He was still very weak and pale, but improving; and as soon as he had tried his powers at hobbling outside the front door, he determined to hobble down to the parsonage. "It was only right, you know, after all their kind enquiries every day about his health!" The Pringles had sent up every morning an extraordinary looking young female servant of theirs, whom the dowager christened "the Gezaba," to ask how "Mister Tom was getting on." Naturally Tom could do no less than return his thanks for such an attention: it could be no other motive that would take him out down to the parsonage so soon after he was able to stir--nothing else, of course! Accordingly, Tom sallied out a day or two after he had come down stairs, telling no one of his venture, for they would all have been up in arms at his walking so far so soon after his illness. It was now a month past the era of the pic-nic--a month remarkable for much besides his accident, and Tom had many things to think of, not the least of which was the recollection of what he had said to Lizzie, and she to him, just after he had been wounded. Doctor Jolly had acted as a sort of go-between to them, having carried many a little message twixt The Poplars and the parsonage, after Tom had been placed _hors de combat_. Kind hearted old Doctor Jolly--his is the truest and most pleasant face on these pages! Tom remembered that walk of his for many a day afterwards. How he had paused at that corner to take breath, and rested on this stile here to recover his faintness; and how he thought he would never be able to reach his destination, until he saw the square old tower of the church and the trim built parsonage beyond. But he got over the ground heavily, hobbling along by the aid of his stick, and receiving hearty greetings of "Foine day, sir!" from the fat farmers, who rejoiced to see the "yoong squoire" about again. The parsonage never looked prettier, he thought, as he got to the gate at last, and Tom rolled over in his mind what he should say to Lizzie, and if she would be glad to see him, and whether he should see her at all. His doubts were, however, soon solved. The "Gezaba of a servant" who opened the door and bungled out a sort of greeting to him, told him that both "Miss Lizzie and the master" were in. Tom could have dispensed with Pringle's presence, but he had to make the best of a bad bargain. As he entered the little drawing-room which he knew so well, Pringle stepped forward gladly to meet him, while Lizzie remained shyly in the background. "By Jove! Tom"--they had long since dropped surnames between them, as men do after a little intimacy--"I'm right glad to see you, old fellow! But we heard that you only got out of bed the day before yesterday, so we hardly expected you to come over yet. How are you, old fellow, eh?" and he shook Tom eagerly by the hand.