Beverdale laughed. "You must not let him hear you say so; he considers
himself quite as fit as any younger man in the place, and, by Jove!
though he's nearly eighty, I'm inclined to believe it. He's not one of
our people, however; he comes from the village, and is taken on at odd
times, partly to please himself. His great aim is to be independent of
his children,--he has a granddaughter who is one of the maids at the
Priory,--and to keep himself out of the workhouse. He does not come from
these parts--somewhere farther north, I fancy. But he's a tough lot, and
has a deal of work in him yet."
"Seems to be going a bit stale lately," said Lord Algernon, "and I think
is getting a little queer in his head. He has a trick of stopping and
staring straight ahead, at times, when he seems to go off for a minute
or two. There!" continued the young man, with a light laugh. "I say!
he's doing it now!" They both turned quickly and gazed at the bent
figure--not fifty yards away--standing in exactly the same attitude as
before. But, even as they gazed, he slowly lifted his rake and began his
monotonous work again.
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