I think the expression of scorn this unfortunate youth exhibited for the filial duty into which he had been evidently beguiled was one of the finest things I had ever seen.
“Wise?”
Wise deigned no verbal reply, but figuratively thrust a worn and patched boot into the discourse. The old man flushed quickly.
“I told ye to get Brown to give you a pair the last time you war down the river.”
“Said he wouldn't without'en order. Said it was like pulling gum teeth to get the money from you even then.”
There was a grim smile at this local hit at the old man's parsimony, and Wise, who was clearly the privileged wit of the family, sank back in honorable retirement.
“Well, Joe, ef your boots are new, and you aren't pestered with wimmin and children, p'r'aps you'll go,” said Tryan, with a nervous twitching, intended for a smile, about a mouth not remarkably mirthful.
Tom lifted a pair of bushy eyebrows, and said shortly:
“Got no saddle.”
“Wot's gone of your saddle?”