“And he’s as old! As unlike May! Why, how many years older than you is Gruff and Tackleton, John?”
“How many more cups of tea shall I drink at one sitting than Gruff and Tackleton ever took in four sittings, I wonder!” replied John good-humoredly.
But even this brought no smile to the face of his little wife. The cricket, too, had stopped. Somehow the room was not so cheerful as it had been. Nothing like it.
The Strange Old Gentleman
“So these are all the parcels, are they, John?” she asked, after a little while; “so these are all the parcels, John?”
“That’s all,” said John. “Why—no—I—I declare—I’ve clean forgotten the old gentleman!”
“The old gentleman?”
“In the cart,” said John. “He was asleep, down in the straw, the last time I saw him. I’ve very nearly remembered him twice since I came in; but he went out of my head again.”
John hastily rose and lighting a candle went out the door. “Halloa! Yahip there! Rouse up! That’s my hearty!” he called as he made his way to the wagon-shed.