“By God, he shall come back—­what’s left of him,” swore Will.  “If it takes me ten year, I’ll go on till I find the skelington of your late husband or enough to prove he’s a dead ’un.  He shall be found, if only to show you what my love’s worth, Jenny.”

“Looking for the little man’s bones in Dart would be like seeking a dead mouse in a haystack,” she said.

“Difficult, I grant, but nothing to the reward you’ve promised.”

“Well,” she told him, “you can have me, such as I am, if you find Nicky.”

Then she left William, and he turned over what she’d said.  He was cunning and simple both, was Bill Westaway.  He believed by now that Jenny really did begin to care a lot for him, and was giving him a chance in her own way to make good.

“An old billycock hat and a bit of red-wool muffler, the tail of a blue shirt, a pair of ginger-coloured socks,” he thought.  “It don’t sound beyond the power of a witty man like me.  But she’ll want more than that.  Us must find a bone or two as a doctor could swear by.”

Full of dark, devilish ideas, the young man went his way; and Jenny got down the hill and walked in her aunt Maria Pardoe’s wash-house as usual.

But she weren’t herself by no means, and the first thing she done was to tear some frill-de-dills belonging to the parson’s wife.  Then she had another accident and so she went to Maria—­the kindest woman on earth—­and told her aunt she weren’t feeling very clever this morning and thought she’d better go home. “’Tis just a year since Nicky was took, as we all know,” said Maria, “and no doubt you’m feeling wisht about it, my dear.  But you must cut a loss like what your betters be often called to do.  You must take another, Jenny, and be large-minded, and remember that there’s better fish in the river than ever came out.”

“Is Nicky in the river?” asked Mrs. White.  “I’m powerful certain he ban’t, Aunt Maria.”

“He’s there,” said the old woman, cheerfully.  “Don’t you worry about your first.  He’ll rise at the Trump along of all of us.  His Maker won’t forget even Nicky.  And meantime he’s just so peaceful under water as he would be in the Yard.  And when you think of the fiery nature of the man, what is there better than peace you could wish him?”

So Jenny went home and her great idea grew upon her, till by noon she’d built up her resolves and made ready for journeying.

And the very next day she was off and her house locked up, and a bit of paper with writing on it fixed up on the door.

Jenny White gone away for a bit.  Please be kind to her yellow cat.

II