Doubtless, too, when you have to pass that
way, the Duke will give you escort till you near our friendly
village."
So the matter was thus arranged to the satisfaction of Tom; and
almost immediately the two companions parted company, the country
here being safe and fairly populated. Before long Tom found himself
knocking at the gate of an old friend of his, who gave him hearty
and boisterous welcome.
It was with strange feelings next day that he found himself riding
along the familiar track which led straight to the village of
Gablethorpe! It was only three months since he had left the place,
but he felt as though full as many years had passed over his head.
He was not very finely dressed; but there was a style about his
London-made riding suit which his country clothes had lacked, and
the peruke upon his head gave him the air of a fine gentleman. He
noted with amusement that some of the rustics who gaped at him as
he passed did not recognize him, although he knew them well. If he
had been riding Wildfire they would have known the horse; but now
both steed and rider seemed strange to them.
Then as he rode at a foot pace through the village, smiling at
sight of the familiar places and faces (his friend had turned back
when they had passed the limits of the forest, and had ridden home
with his servant, not to be belated), one of the women at the
cottage doors smote her hands together and cried:
"Bless us all! if it bean't Master Tom hisself!"
"Golly! and so it be!" cried her husband, who was just coming in
from the fields; and the next minute Tom was surrounded by a
gaping, admiring crowd, all eager to give him welcome, and wonder
at the fine figure he cut amongst them.
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