It was proof of the rare delicacy of Robert Keane’s nature that he put the matter in the light of a favour to himself.  Mr. Goldthwaite admired and honoured his friend at that moment more than he had ever done before.

Aunt Hepsy preserved a rigid and unbending silence.

Uncle Josh stood twirling his thumbs reflectively.  It was to cost him nothing, not a farthing; and he would be rid of the bother the hot-headed youngster was to him.  But for his sister he would have granted a ready assent.

“Wal, Hepsy?” he said in an inquiring tone.

“You’re the master, Josh, I reckon.  Do as ye please.  It’s all one to me;” and to their amazement she flounced out of the room and banged the door behind her.

“I’m much obleeged to you, Mr. Keane,” said Josh, finding his tongue in a marvellously short time.  “I’ve no objections.  As I said afore, he’s an idle, peart young ’un; no good at farm work.  I hope yell be able to make a better job o’ him than I’ve done.”

“I am not afraid,” said Mr. Robert Keane.  “And I am obliged to you for granting my request.  Can I see Tom?”

“I reckon you may,” said Uncle Josh slowly.  “Wal, I’ll be off to that plaguy mill.  Good-day to you.—­My respects to Miss Goldthwaite, parson.”  Once more Uncle Josh pulled his forelock, and shambled out of the room.

“It doesn’t cause them much concern anyway,” said Mr. Keane when the door closed.  “They are a bright pair; I should be afraid of that woman myself.  How that mite of a girl stands it I don’t know.”

Before Mr. Goldthwaite had time to answer, the door opened, and a very eager, excited-looking boy appeared on the threshold.

“Well, Tom, my boy,” said Mr. Keane, holding out his hand, “the bargain’s sealed.  You belong to me now.”

“Has Uncle Josh—­has Aunt Hepsy said I might?” he said breathlessly.  “Oh, it is too good to be true!”

“True enough,” said Mr. Keane, laughing at the lad’s manner.—­“Please assure him of it, Mr. Goldthwaite.”

Mr. Goldthwaite laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and bent his grave eyes on his beaming face.  “I congratulate you,” he said heartily.  “And I hope that by-and-by all Pendlepoint will be proud of the name of Tom Hurst.”

Tom drew his hand across his eyes.  “I can’t help it, sir,” he said apologetically.  “But if you knew how much I’ve wished for this and dreamed of it.—­Oh, I feel I can never be grateful enough to you, Mr. Keane!”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Keane.  “Well, we must be going.  Show us the way out, will you, Tom?  Your aunt has deserted us.  I don’t leave for a fortnight yet.  I shall see you again in a day or two.”

Aunt Hepsy, however, had not altogether forgotten the duties of hospitality, and now reappeared and asked them to stay to tea.  Her face had cleared a little, and she seemed to regret her previous rudeness.  Her invitation, however, was courteously declined.