CHAPTER XXV. WING FOLD AND HIS WIFE.
Thomas Wingfold closed his book, replaced it in his pocket, got down from the stile, turned his face toward home, crossed field after field, and arrived just in time to meet his wife as she came down the stair to breakfast.
“Have you had a nice walk, Thomas?” she asked.
“Indeed I have!” he answered. “Almost from the first I was right out in the open.”—His wife knew what he meant.—“Before the sun came up”, he went on, “I had to go in, and come out at another door; but I was soon very glad of it. I had met a fellow who, I think, will pluck his feet out of the mud before long.”
“Have you asked him to the rectory?”
“No.”
“Shall I write and ask him?”
“No, my wife. For one thing, you can't: I don't know his name, and I don't know what he is, or where he lives. But we shall meet again soon.”
“Then you have made an appointment with him!”