He lived with his mother on the Maypole farm, tending
the poultry and the cattle, working in a garden of his own, and helping
everywhere. He was known to every bird and beast about the place, and
had a name for every one. Never was there a lighter-hearted husbandman,
a creature more popular with young and old, a blither or more happy soul
than Barnaby; and though he was free to ramble where he would, he never
quitted Her, but was for evermore her stay and comfort.
It was remarkable that although he had that dim sense of the past, he
sought out Hugh's dog, and took him under his care; and that he never
could be tempted into London. When the Riots were many years old,
and Edward and his wife came back to England with a family almost as
numerous as Dolly's, and one day appeared at the Maypole porch, he knew
them instantly, and wept and leaped for joy. But neither to visit them,
nor on any other pretence, no matter how full of promise and enjoyment,
could he be persuaded to set foot in the streets: nor did he ever
conquer this repugnance or look upon the town again.
Grip soon recovered his looks, and became as glossy and sleek as ever.
But he was profoundly silent.
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