"
"Why not put the boy to Mendarva the Smith, over to Benny Beneath?
He's a first-rate workman."
"That is more than six miles away."
"No matter for that. There's Joll's Farm close by; Farmer Joll would
board and lodge en for nine shillings a week, and glad of the chance;
and he could come home for Sundays."
Mr. Raymond, as soon as he reached home, sat down and wrote a letter
to Mendarva the Smith and another to Farmer Joll. Within a week the
bargains were struck, and it was settled that Taffy should go at
once.
"I may be calling before long, to look you up," said the Bryanite,
"but mind you do no more than nod when you see me."
Joll's Farm lay somewhere near Carwithiel, across the moor where
Taffy had gone fishing with George and Honoria. On the Monday
morning when he stepped through the white front gate, with his bag on
his shoulder, and paused for a good look at the building, it seemed
to him a very comfortable farmstead, and vastly superior to the
tumble-down farms around Nannizabuloe. The flagged path, which led
up to the front door between great bunches of purple honesty, was
swept as clean as a dairy.
A dark-haired maid opened the door and led him to the great kitchen
at the back. Hams wrapped in paper hung from the rafters, and
strings of onions. The pans over the fire-place were bright as
mirrors, and through the open window he heard the voices of children
at play as well as the clacking of poultry in the town-place.
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