The arrival of a stranger caused a momentary pause in the work. Those on the ground gathered round him, and the two men on the stack leaned over to see.
“Who are you?” asked the farmer curtly.
“A beggar,” answered the newcomer, seating himself on one of the rolls of turf.
“I thought as much,” grumbled the man. “Can’t you sit on the ground, instead of spoiling my turf?” And, turning angrily to the men, he shouted:
“Well, what is there to stare at? Get to your work.”
Guest the One-eyed sat down, and for a while was left to himself. A dog came trotting up, sniffed at him, and curled up dog-fashion at his feet, apparently satisfied of being in decent company.
At length the farmer turned to him again.
“Well, old Greybeard, what news from anywhere?”
“There’s little news I can tell.”
“I daresay. All you think of is the meals you get—in other folks’ kitchens.”