‘Nowt o’ th’ sort!’ said Mr. Trippett. ‘You’re all right for another hour--help yourself, my lad.’ ‘The little boy’s all right,’ said Mrs. Trippett softly. ‘He’s soon made friends with John and Mary--they were as thick as thieves when I left them just now.’ ‘Then let’s be comfortable,’ said the host. ‘Dang my buttons, there’s nowt like comfort by your own fireside. And how were London town looking, then, Mr. Pepperdine?--mucky as ever, I expect.’ Mr. Pepperdine, with a replenished glass and a newly charged pipe, plunged into a description of what he had seen in London. The time slipped away--the old clock struck nine at last, and suddenly reminded him that he had six miles to drive and that his sisters would be expecting his arrival with the boy. ‘Time flies fast in good company,’ he remarked as he rose with evident reluctance. ‘I always enjoy an evening by your hospitable fireside, Mrs. Trippett, ma’am.’ ‘You’re in a great hurry to leave it, anyhow,’ said Mr. Trippett, with a broad grin. ‘Sit ye down again, man--you’ll be home in half an hour with that mare o’ yours, and it’s only nine o’clock, and ten to one th’ owd clock’s wrong.’ ‘Ay, but my watch isn’t,’ answered Mr. Pepperdine. ‘Nay, we must go--Keziah and Judith’ll be on the look-out for us, and they’ll want to see the boy.’ ‘Ay, I expect they will,’ said Mr. Trippett. ‘Well, if you must you must--take another glass and light a cigar.’ Mr. Pepperdine refused neither of these aids to comfort, and lingered a few minutes longer. But at last they all went out into the great kitchen, Mrs. Trippett leading the way with words of regret at her guest’s departure. She paused upon the threshold and turned to the two men with a gesture which commanded silence.