The two trudged on in silence for a bit, and then Radmore asked in a low
voice:--"Is that busy-body, Miss Pendarth, still alive?"
They were passing by Rose Cottage as he spoke, and Timmy at once replied
in a shrill voice:--"Yes, of course she is." And then, as if as an
afterthought, he remarked slyly:--"Rosamund often says she wishes she
were dead. Do you hate her, too?"
"Hate's a big word," said Radmore thoughtfully, "but there was very
little love lost between me and that good lady in the old days."
They passed the lych-gate of the churchyard, and then, following a sudden
impulse, Radmore turned into the post-office.
Yes, his instinct had been right, for here, at any rate, was an old
friend, but a friend who, from a young man, had become old and grey.
Grasping the postmaster, Jim Cobbett, warmly by the hand Radmore
exclaimed:--"I'm glad to find you well and hearty, Cobbett." There
came the surprised: "Why, it's Mr. Radmore to be sure! How's the world
been treating you, sir?"
"Better than I deserve, Cobbett."
"Can you stay a minute, sir--Missus would like to see you, too?" The
speaker opened a door out of the tiny shop, and Radmore, followed by
Timmy and Flick, walked into a cosy living-room, where an old dog got
up and growled at them.
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