It began to draw towards
evening, and Master Brown was beginning to observe that he must go
and report to my lady, poor soul; and as to the corn, well, they had
lost a day gaping at the fight, and they must come up again to-
morrow, he only hoped they were not carting it for the round-headed
rogues; when at that moment there was a sudden cry, first of terror,
then of recognition, "Roger, Hodge Fitter! how didst come here?"
For a weary, worn-out trooper, with stained buff coat, and heavy
boots, stood panting among them. "I thought 'twas our folks," he
said. "Be mother here?"
"Hodge! My Hodge! Be'st hurt, my lad?" cried the mother, bursting
through the midst and throwing herself on him, while his father
contented himself with a sort of grunt. "All right, Hodge. How
com'st here?"
"And where's my Jack?" exclaimed Goody Bent.
"And where's our Harry?" was another cry from Widow Lakin.
While Stead longed to ask, but could not be heard in the clamour,
whether his brother had been there.
Hodge could tell little--seen less than the lookers on above.
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