"Trust me, I am exceedingly weary."
SHAKESPEARE.


John Kenton, though a Churchwarden, was, as has been said, a very
small farmer, and the homestead was no more than a substantial
cottage, built of the greystone of the country, with the upper story
projecting a little, and reached by an outside stair of stone. The
farm yard, with the cowsheds, barn, and hay stack were close in
front, with only a narrow strip of garden between, for there was not
much heed paid to flowers, and few kitchen vegetables were grown in
those days, only a few potherbs round the door, and a sweet-brier
bush by the window.

The cows had made their way home of their own accord, and Patience
was milking one of them already, while little Rusha held the baby,
which was swaddled up as tightly as a mummy, with only his arms free.
He stretched them out with a cry of gladness as he saw his father,
and Kenton took the little creature tenderly in his arms and held him
up, while Steadfast hurried off to fetch the milking stool and begin
upon the other cow.

"Is Jeph come home?" asked the father, and Rusha answered "No, daddy,
though he went ever so long ago, and said he would bring me a cake."

Upon this Master Kenton handed little Benoni back to Rusha, not
without some sounds of fretfulness from the baby, but the pigs had to
be shut up and fed, and the other evening work of the farmyard done;
and it was not till all this was over, and Patience had disposed of