"
"Get along with yer," he replied laughingly, jumping down and
handing the reins to the lad who had been waiting, "you could give
some of the young uns points yet, mother. I allus promised the old
lady as she should ride behind her own 'oss one day," he continued,
turning to me, "didn't I, mother?"
"Ay, ay," replied the old soul, as she hobbled nimbly up the steps,
"ye're a good son, Jack, ye're a good son."
He led the way into the parlour. As he entered every face
lightened up with pleasure, a harmony of joyous welcome greeted
him. The old hard world had been shut out with the slam of the
front door. I seemed to have wandered into Dickensland. The red-
faced man with the small twinkling eyes and the lungs of leather
loomed before me, a large, fat household fairy. From his capacious
pockets came forth tobacco for the old father; a huge bunch of hot-
house grapes for a neighbour's sickly child, who was stopping with
them; a book of Henty's--beloved of boys--for a noisy youngster who
called him "uncle"; a bottle of port wine for a wan, elderly woman
with a swollen face--his widowed sister-in-law, as I subsequently
learned; sweets enough for the baby (whose baby I don't know) to
make it sick for a week; and a roll of music for his youngest
sister.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214