'Come back, Stephen; it's true,' gasped James Fern. 'Poor mother and me
came here, where nobody knew us, while he was away for more than twenty
years; and she built a hut for-us to live in till he came back. I was a
little lad then, but as soon as I was big enough she made me learn to
read and write, that I might send letters to him beyond the seas and none
of the neighbours know. She'd often make me read to her about a poor
fellow who had left home and gone to a far country, and when he came home
again, how his father saw him a long way off. Well, she was just like
that when she'd heard that he was landed in England; she did nought but
sit over the bent of the hill yonder, peering along the road to Botfield;
and one evening at sundown she saw something, little more than a speck
upon the turf, and she'd a feeling come over her that it was he, and she
fainted for real joy. After all, we weren't much happier when we were
settled down like. Grandfather had learned to tend sheep out yonder, and
I worked at Botfield; but we never laid by money to build a brick house,
as poor mother always wanted us.
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