The next morning at six o’clock Jenny was down to make his breakfast for him before starting.  If she had said, “Don’t go,” it is to be feared the temptation would have been too strong, but she did not; she said sorrowfully, “You are right to leave this town.”  She never explained.  Tom never heard from her own lips how far her suspicions went.  He was a coward, and seeing how shrewd she was, was afraid to ask her; and she was one of your natural ladies who can leave a thing unsaid out of delicacy.

Tom Robinson was what Jenny called “capital company.”  He had won her admiration by his conversation, his stories of life, and now and then a song, and by his good looks and good nature.  She disguised her affection admirably until he was in danger and about to leave her—­and then she betrayed herself.  If she was fire he was tow.  At last it came to this:  “Don’t you cry so, dear girl.  I have got a question to put to you—­IF I COME BACK A BETTER MAN THAN I GO, WILL YOU BE MRS. ROBINSON?”

“Yes.”

CHAPTER LI.

ROBINSON started for Bathurst.  Just before he got clear of the town he passed the poor man’s cottage who had lent him the board.  “Bless me, how came I to forget him?” said he.  At that moment the man came out to go to work.  “Here I am,” said Robinson, meeting him full, “and here is your board;” showing it to him painted in squares.  “Can’t afford to give it you back—­it is my advertisement.  But here is half-a-crown for it and for your trusting me.”

“Well, to be sure,” cried the man.  “Now who’d have thought this?  Why, if the world is not turning honest.  But half-a-crown is too much; ’tain’t worth the half of it.”

“It was worth five pounds to me.  I got employment through it.  Look here,” and he showed him several pounds in silver; “all this came from your board; so take your half-crown and my thanks on the head of it.”

The half-crown lay in the man’s palm; he looked in Robinson’s face.  “Well,” cried he with astonishment, “you are the honestest man ever I fell in with.”

“I am the honestest man!  You will go to heaven for saying those words to me,” cried Robinson warmly and with agitation.  “Good-by, my good, charitable soul; you deserve ten times what you have got,” and Robinson made off.

The other, as soon as he recovered the shock, shouted after him, “Good-by, honest man, and good luck wherever you go.”

And Robinson heard him scuttle about and hastily convene small boys and dispatch them down the road to look at an honest man.  But the young wood did not kindle at his enthusiasm.  Had the rarity been a bear with a monkey on him, well and good.

“I’m pretty well paid for a little honesty,” thought Robinson.  He stepped gallantly out in high spirits, and thought of Jenny, and fell in love with her, and saw in her affection yet another inducement to be honest and industrious.  Nothing of note happened on his way to Bathurst, except that one day as he was tramping along very hot and thirsty a luscious prickly pear hung over a wall, and many a respectable man would have taken it without scruple; but Tom was so afraid of beginning again he turned his back on it and ran on instead of walking to make sure.