“Now, where is Neddy?” said the weary mare, “for not a speck of him can I find. There’s every bit of fodder munched up—rakes and spades kicked about—yes, he’s been here sure enough. And there’s the brand new bucket stamped on. Whatever will Master say? This is keeping an eye on things till master comes back, isn’t it! Oh! dear me. I’ve got a run-a-gate donkey somewhere and a Jack Tar in the kitchen smoking my master’s baccy.”
“What’s the matter now?” As Sally turned round she saw a sheep dog. “Oh? Ben, it’s you,” she cried. “I’m nearly worried out of my wits. For goodness’ sake do stop here, Ben, and keep guard till master comes back. There’s the bow-legged toppin’d hen wants keeping in her place, and that limping calf ought to be tethered. And Neddy ought to be sent home instead of stamping the fodder about and kicking the new bucket, and—there’s that sailor chap in the kitchen smoking my master’s baccy! Mercy on us! what’s that?” as a band struck up a gay tune. “It’s a travelling circus—no, it isn’t. My word, the whole village is up and our sailor gentleman is dancing a hornpipe! Thank goodness—there’s master coming! Whoever would have thought of things happening like this!”
“What cheer, John!” cried the sailor, extending his hand and running forward to meet his old friend. “How are ye, my hearty? What, don’t you know me, John? My old chum! Why, I’m Sam—surely!”
“It can’t be, but it is!” and the farmer’s voice became husky. “I’ve thought ye dead this many a year. So you’ve actually returned, Sammy!”
“To settle in the old country, and to pitch my tent alongside o’ yours, John.”
“Look here, you sailor man,” cried Sally, “master belongs to me. We run this farm between us, we do, and we want no hornpipy sailor to join us.”
“And where does this band come from?” asked the farmer. The musicians, let me say, were trumpeting and drumming for all they were worth.
“Well, I brought it with me from Jarmouth. Look here, my hearties,” he called out, “change the tune to ‘Auld lang Syne’ and we will all join in the chorus.”
Which everybody did. Even Neddy sat on his haunches and “he-hawed” his loudest, of course, lolling his tongue round as usual, and throwing three-cornered glances in all directions. The limping calf was touched and was suddenly seized with a racing fit; and the chickens, no doubt thinking that the end of the world had come, turned somersaults and fought battles in all directions.