a real Christian and pattern, in spite of outsides, though as true
a gentleman as ever walked, and by rights should be amongst the highest.
She repeated 'amongst the highest' reprovingly, with the ears of barley
in her blue bonnet shaking, and her hands clasped tight in her lap. Old
Mr. Bannerbridge (that was the old gentleman's name) came back very late
from his visit to my father, so late that he said it would be cruel to
let me go out in the street after my bed-time. Mrs. Waddy consented to
my remaining, on the condition of my being surrendered to her at nine
o'clock, and no later, the following morning.

I was assured by Mr. Bannerbridge that my father's health and appetite
were excellent; he gave me a number of unsatisfying messages, all the
rest concerning his interview he whispered to his daughter and his
sister, Miss Bannerbridge, who said they hoped they would have news from
Hampshire very early, so that the poor child might be taken away by
the friends of his infancy. I could understand that my father was
disapproved of by them, and that I was a kind of shuttlecock flying
between two battledores; but why they pitied me I could not understand.
There was a great battle about me when Mrs. Waddy appeared punctual to
her appointed hour. The victory was hers, and I, her prize, passed a
whole day in different conveyances, the last of which landed us miles
away from London, at the gates of an old drooping, mossed and streaked
farmhouse, that was like a wall-flower in colour.

CHAPTER III. DIPWELL FARM

In rain or in sunshine this old farmhouse had a constant resemblance
to a wall-flower; and it had the same moist earthy smell, except in
the kitchen, where John and Martha Thresher lived, apart from their
furniture. All the fresh eggs, and the butter stamped, with three bees,
and the pots of honey, the fowls, and the hare lifted out of the hamper
by his hind legs, and the country loaves smelling heavenly, which used
to come to Mrs. Waddy's address in London, and appear on my father's
table, were products of Dipwell farm, and presents from her sister,
Martha Thresher. On receiving this information I felt at home in a
moment, and asked right off, 'How long am I to stay here?--Am I going
away tomorrow?--What's going to be done with me?' The women found these
questions of a youthful wanderer touching. Between kissings and promises
of hens to feed, and eggs that were to come of it, I settled into
contentment. A stro