“But they d’ say, my dear, as the women out abroad be a terrible ugly lot, and most of ’em black.  Tisn’t likely as Corporal Baverstock ’ud so much as look at any o’ they, arter pickin’ sich a vitty maid for his first missis.”

It was Mrs. Cousins who made this remark to Mrs. Adlam, as they paced together along the flagged path that led to the church porch; and it is not surprising that both ladies felt constrained to turn their heads when the martial tread of Soldier Dick resounded up the church a few moments later.

Jenny Meatyard nudged Maggie Fripp.

“Do ’ee see his medal?” she inquired in a whisper.

Maggie nodded.  “That there korky uniform do suit en wonderful well.”

Two village mothers exchanged glances of tender approbation, for, clinging to Corporal Baverstock’s hand, and taking preposterously long steps in the endeavour to keep pace with his strides, was Tilly Ann, in her best starched white frock, and with her yellow hair curled in a greater profusion of corkscrew ringlets than her granny had ever yet achieved.

“Bain’t it a pictur’?” one pair of motherly eyes seemed to say to the other, and I think many of the good simple folk performed their devotions all the better because of the consciousness of the two happy hearts, the man’s and the little child’s, beating in their midst.

The service once over, friends and neighbours gathered round the young soldier outside the church door.  Those nearest spoke to him; those less fortunate, on the outskirts of the little crowd, contented themselves with admiring comments.

“He d’ seem to have filled out, though he have been punished so terrible out yonder.”

“My dear, they did tell I as his poor leg was all one solid wownd.  D’ye mind how Mrs. Baverstock did take on, pore ’ooman.  And well she mid.”

“Well she mid, indeed.  Ah! ’tis a comfort to see as Corporal Baverstock d’ seem able to walk so well as ever.  I see Mrs. Baverstock didn’t come to church—­’tis a wonder.”

“Nay, no wonder at all.  It bain’t likely as the poor body could leave her Sunday dinner the very first day her son be a-comed home.  She’s busy, that’s what she be.”

“Ah! to be sure.  There, Lard now, look at Tilly Ann!  He’ve a-got her up in his arms.  Dear, to be sure, ’tis a beautiful sight, they two faces side by side.  The maid doesn’t favour her daddy a bit—­nay, ’tis the very pictur’ o’ the pore wife.”

“’E-es; she had that yellow hair, and them great big blue eyes.  There, I’ve a-got a china cup at home what be jist the same colour.  ’Tisn’t nat’ral for a maid to have eyes that blue.  I wouldn’t mention it to Mrs. Baverstock, nor yet to Dick, but I shouldn’t wonder at all if Tilly Ann was to follow her mother afore very long, pore little maid.”

“Ah! they do say as when a young mother be took like that, as often as not she’ll keep on a-callin’ and a-callin’, till the pore little thing she’ve a-left behind fair withers away.”