It was Jennie only who hung weeping on his neck and watched him walk proudly and sorrowfully away over the hills into the wide, wide world beyond.
Then for many, many long years no more was heard of "Lile Davie Denton." The old schoolmaster died and Christopher followed him.

But the Denton brothers remained together.

However, when men make saving money the sole end of their existence, their life soon becomes as uninteresting as the multiplication table, and people ceased to care about the Denton farm, especially as Jennie married a wealthy squire over the mountains, and left her brothers to work out alone their new devices and economies.
Jennie's marriage was a happy one, but she did not forget her brother.
There was in Esthwaite Grange a young man who bore his name and who was preparing for a like career.

And often Jennie Esthwaite told to the lads and lasses around her knees the story of their "lile uncle," whom every one but his own kin had loved, and who had gone away to the Indies and never come back again.

"Lile Davie" was the one bit of romance in Esthwaite Grange.
Jennie's brothers had never been across the "fells" that divided Denton from Esthwaite; therefore, one morning, twenty-seven years after Davie's departure, she was astonished to see Matt coming slowly down the Esthwaite side.