Mr MacAngus, you must understand, did not say all this in one breath, for he was a slow man. But it reads as if he did, because none of the others uttered a word. It was all too bewildering and also too amusing. He was so big and so strange, and he had such a twinkle in his eye, that they preferred to let him go on, knowing that whatever he said would be entertaining.
"Well," he said at last, "now we must stop talking nonsense and introduce ourselves. But first I should like you all to guess who I am and what I do for a living. You first," he said, pointing to Janet.
"I think you are a kind of hermit," she said at last.
"Right," he said. "But that's not enough. What do I do? You," he added, pointing to Mary, "what do you think I do?"
"Perhaps you lecture," said Mary, "or preach. No, I don't think you preach. I think very likely you speak to villagers about politics—tariff reform and things like that."
The big man laughed. "Very well," he said. "Now you," to Robert.
"I think you're a gentleman gipsy," said Robert. "Like Lavengro. Are you?"
"In a way," said the stranger, "but I shan't tell you till you've all guessed."
Jack Rotheram then guessed that he was a spy, and this amused him immensely.
"In a kind of way I am that too," he answered. "At any rate, I am always looking out for the fatness of the land."