"Young and masterly," he muttered, "and o'er young to be so o'er
masterly. But I mind the day when I would 'a' raddled his bones with my
quarterstaff."
"I won't naysay it, grandad," I answered, seeking to humour him. "In your
time you've been a two-inch taller lad than I am. Not so big o' the chest,
though, grandad."
"Who're you grandadding? I was big enough o' the chest when I could neck
meat and drink enough to fill me out. Now!"
As he spoke he gripped a handful of the waistcoat that hung loosely about
him, and added, "Once it was a fair fit, my master. It's cold and late for
my old bones to be creaking about, but Trusty's the dog for the tail-end
of the hunt, and a Blount's a Blount and mun be served."
"Fetch him out!" I repeated. "I've ridden hard and far to serve him."
The ancient took another look at me and said to himself in a loud
whisper, after the manner of old and favoured serving-men, "A farmering
body all but his hat, and none o' your ride-by-nights."
"Fetch him out!" said I again, not for want of fresh words to say to the
candid old dodderer but to keep him to the point.
Pages:
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356