Somehow it was a comfort to the grown-up man to have the child with him.

Had he been alone he would have felt like a ghost walking up the quiet, empty village street.

The presence of the child and the dog made him feel so _real_.
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.
"That dog," said Timmy in a hoarse whisper, "frightened poor Mrs.Crofton very much the other day as she was coming out of church." For a moment Radmore thought the room was empty.

Then, in the dim lamp-light, a woman, who had been sitting by the fireplace, got up.
"Here's Mr.Radmore come all the way from Australia, mother." "Mr.Radmore ?" repeated the woman dully, and Radmore had another, and a very painful, shock.
He remembered Mrs.Cobbett definitely, as a buxom, merry-looking young woman.