CHAPTER VIII
A PUNCH IN THE WIND
The Lillys had a labourer's cottage in Hampshire—pleasant enough. They were poor. Lilly was a little, dark, thin, quick fellow, his wife was strong and fair. They had known Robert and Julia for some years, but Josephine and Jim were new acquaintances,—fairly new.
One day in early spring Lilly had a telegram, "Coming to see you arrive 4:30—Bricknell." He was surprised, but he and his wife got the spare room ready. And at four o'clock Lilly went off to the station. He was a few minutes late, and saw Jim's tall, rather elegant figure stalking down the station path. Jim had been an officer in the regular army, and still spent hours with his tailor. But instead of being a soldier he was a sort of socialist, and a red-hot revolutionary of a very ineffectual sort.
"Good lad!" he exclaimed, as Lilly came up. "Thought you wouldn't mind."
"Not at all. Let me carry your bag." Jim had a bag and a knapsack.
"I had an inspiration this morning," said Jim. "I suddenly saw that if there was a man in England who could save me, it was you."
"Save you from what?" asked Lilly, rather abashed.
"Eh—?" and Jim stooped, grinning at the smaller man.
Lilly was somewhat puzzled, but he had a certain belief in himself as a saviour. The two men tramped rather incongruously through the lanes to the cottage.
Tanny was in the doorway as they came up the garden path.
"So nice to see you! Are you all right?" she said.
"A. I." said Jim, grinning. "Nice of you to have me."
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