“It is so hard to describe people.”
“It is impossible,” said Anne, “even on a passport.”
“Not quite. Tall, and curly hair—very curly hair.”
“That’s satisfactory, Rose,” remarked Jack.
“I had not done. Oh, what I thought strange was the man’s manner. Now and then he spoke as if he was talking to an equal, and really he has a voice quite full of pleasant tones. The next minute he talked like Thunder Tom, or worse.”
“I must ask Carington about him. By the way, I was right as to Ellett. He is a son of my old companion. I fancy they will be here to-day or to-morrow. If this present Oliver is like his father, he will be solid, stolid,—a rock of good sense.”
“I don’t want him, Marcus Aurelius, nor the other. For a first-class B. O. I prefer my young man of the gold dollar. But I must have it again. I am not at all sure now that honesty is the best policy. When you see Mr. Carington, Pardy, do ask about the man. He seemed quite above his class. Ned, I cannot wait for you to finish your interminable meal.”
“I think he just chews for exercise,” said Dick. “Might arrange, if the meat was tough enough, to keep his appetite up all the time. Wouldn’t that be fine, Ned?”
“I don’t think any of my boys require artificial aid,” said Mrs. Lyndsay. “Dugald Dalgetty was a trifler to you.”
“I haven’t got to the fish yet, and it’s my own salmon,” said the boy, helping himself.