He squeezed the water from his
trousers and, crossing the bridge, set off across the meadows.
His self-imposed term of bachelorhood lasted just three months, at the
end of which time he made up his mind to enact the part of the generous
husband and forgive his wife everything. He would not go into details,
but issue one big, magnanimous pardon.
Full of these lofty ideas he set off in the direction of home again. It
was a three-days' tramp, and the evening of the third day saw him but a
bare two miles from home. He clambered up the bank at the side of the
road and, sprawling at his ease, smoked quietly in the moonlight.
A waggon piled up with straw came jolting and creaking toward him. The
driver sat dozing on the shafts, and Mr. Blows smiled pleasantly as he
recognised the first face of a friend he had seen for three months. He
thrust his pipe in his pocket and, rising to his feet, clambered on to
the back of the waggon, and lying face downward on the straw peered down
at the unconscious driver below.
"I'll give old Joe a surprise," he said to himself. "He'll be the first
to welcome me back."
"Joe," he said, softly.
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