Having had his mental faculties returned to him by the fortunate circumstance of being struck on the head by a weathered wooden sign, Mr Headstone resolved to return to London at once, or, at least, as soon as the apothecary had done wrapping his crown with brown paper soaked in vinegar. The village folk gathered on the green to bid the pedagogue farewell and to present him with small tokens of remembrance as a mark of his brief sojourn amongst them. Mrs Lupin wrapped these simple geegaws - straw poppets, stones from the village stream, wooden spoons, balls of yarn - into a red spotted handkerchief, which she then knotted onto the end of a length of ash for the greater convenience of conveyance.
The emotions at the moment of parting were keenly felt by the villagers, whose lives had been briefly enriched by the appearance of the noble stranger in their midst. Mr Headstone, having no memory of the period between the two instances when he had received a blow to the head, was less affected by the occasion, and made his farewells as he might to any group of strangers; which conduct made Mrs Lupin shed more tears than she might have otherwise done. On passing the first bend in the road, Mr Headstone - not being of a sentimental nature - tossed the contents of his knapsack into the ditch, for it was a heavy burden and the ash chafed his shoulder. And yet, before anyone accuses the pedagogue of having a hard heart, let it be recorded that he kept the landlady's gift of the spotted handkerchief, which was either a sign that he reserved some small sentiment for the good woman, or that he was in need of something to wipe the perspiration from his face.
Mr Charles Dickens
