Tobias’s eyebrows knitted together once more as he stared at the boy for a few seconds trying to make sense of what the kid was saying. “What? No. I’m not adoptin’ ye.” He said, with a shake of the head. He had learned from past mistakes – or rather, a recent mistake – that creating an ‘instant family’ by picking up a stray was a bad idea.

“And neither was I planning to make a slave of ye. There’s no high walls around the farm, and ye won’t be formally apprenticed. Ye’re free to leave whenever you please. I estimate it would take ye six or seven hours to walk back to Whitby. You’d get food and a barn to sleep in – and a spot in the house for the winter should you choose to stay that long – plus a shilling and a half a week. Better than stealin’ and getting caught, I’d say.” He folded his arms.