"Tell me what you think about it, Norah—quite candidly."
Norah had hesitated about replying; but she now said that she really thought Dale need not be in a hurry. Billy was so clever that when he did get to school he would learn faster than other boys; and she added that his departure from home would be "a dreadful wrinch for Mrs. Dale."
"But it will be a wrench for her whenever it happens. In life one has to prepare one's self for wrenches—That, I fancy, is the better way of pronouncing the word. Yes, wrench after wrench, Norah—that's life; until the last great wrench comes—and, well, that isn't life.... Who was that passed the window?"
Norah turned her bright young face to the window and peered out.
"It's Mr. Bates, sir. How funny he looks!"
"What d'you mean—funny?"
"Walking so slow, and leaning on his great stick—as if he was a pilgrim."
Dale had jumped off his stool; and he ran out to the road and begged the old man to come in.
"Certainly, William," said Mr. Bates.
He had cut himself a long staff from some woodland holly-tree, a rough prop that reached shoulder high, and on this he leaned heavily as soon as he stopped walking. He looked very old and very shaky.