looked sadly at the vacant place where Joe had
used to sit.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Joe's return to Southwood--an invitation from the Vicar--what the old oak
saw.

It was a long time after the circumstances mentioned in the last chapter.
The jails had been "delivered" of their prisoners, and prodigious events
had taken place in the world; great battles had been fought and won,
great laws made for the future interpretation of judges, and for the
vexation of unfortunate suitors. It seemed an age to Mr. Bumpkin since
his case commenced; and Joe had been in foreign parts and won his share
of the glory and renown that falls to the lot of privates who have helped
to achieve victory for the honour and glory of their General and the
happiness of their country. It was a very long time, measured by events,
since Mr. Bumpkin's return from town, when on a bright morning towards
the end of June, a fine sunburnt soldier of Her Majesty's regiment of the
--- Hussars knocked with the butt-end of his riding whip at the old oak
door in the old porch of Southwood farm-house.

"Well, I never! if that there bean't our Joe!" exclaimed Mrs. Bumpkin,
looking out of the window; and throwing down the rolling-pin which she
had just been using in rolling-out the dough for a dumpling--(Mr. Bumpkin
was "uncommon fond o' dumplins")--"well, I never!" repeated Mrs. Bumpkin,
as she opened the door; "who ever would ha' thought it? Why, how be'est
thee, Joe? And bless the lad, 'ow thee've growed! My 'art alive, come
along! The master'll be mighty glad to see thee, and so be I, sure a
ly."

And here Mrs. Bumpkin paused to look round him, sticking her knuckles in
her sides and her elbows in the air as though Joe were a piece of
handiwork--a dumpling, say--which she herself had turned out, clothes and
all. And then she put the corner of her apron to her eye.

"Why, Joe, I thought," said she, "I should never see thee agin! Dear,
dear, this 'ere lawsuit be the ruin on us, mark my words! But lor, don't
say as I said so to the master for the world, for he be that wropped up
in un that nothing goes down night and morning, morning and night, but
affidavys, and summonses, and counsellors, and jussices, and what not."

"Well," said the soldier, slapping his whip on his leg as was his custom,
"you might be sure I should come and see yer if they left me a leg to hop
with, and I should 'a wrote, but what wi' the smoke and what with the
cannon balls fl