And one eyelid
was down, though he could see all right with the eye under it. Round in
the back he was and growing bald on the top; but what hair he had was
long, and he never would cut it, because he said it kept his neck warm.
He had his history pat, of course, though how much truth there was to it
we shall never know in this world. He was an old soldier, and had been
shot in the right foot in India along with Lord Roberts in the Chitral
campaign. Then he'd left the service and messed up his pension--so he
said. I don't know how. Anyway he didn't get none. He showed a medal,
however, which had been won by him, or somebody else; but it hadn't got no
name on it. He was a great talker and his manners were far ahead of
anything Mary had met with. He'd think nothing of putting a chair for her,
or anything like that; and while he was storm-bound, he earned his keep
and more, for he was very handy over a lot of little things, and clever
with hosses and so on, and not only would he keep 'em amused of a night
with his songs and adventures; but he'd do the accounts, or anything with
figures, and he showed my sister how, in a good few ways she was spending
money to poor purpose. He turned out to be a very clean man and very well
behaved. He didn't make trouble, but was all the other way, and when the
snow thawed, he was as busy as a bee helping the men round about the farm.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86