But he's
got a tongue like a sharp blade, Bartle has--it never touches anything
but it cuts. Here's the turning, sir. I must bid you good-morning, as
you're going to the rectory."
"Good-bye, Adam, good-bye."
Arthur gave his horse to the groom at the rectory gate, and walked along
the gravel towards the door which opened on the garden. He knew that the
rector always breakfasted in his study, and the study lay on the left
hand of this door, opposite the dining-room. It was a small low room,
belonging to the old part of the house--dark with the sombre covers of
the books that lined the walls; yet it looked very cheery this morning
as Arthur reached the open window. For the morning sun fell aslant on
the great glass globe with gold fish in it, which stood on a scagliola
pillar in front of the ready-spread bachelor breakfast-table, and by the
side of this breakfast-table was a group which would have made any room
enticing. In the crimson damask easy-chair sat Mr. Irwine, with that
radiant freshness which he always had when he came from his morning
toilet; his finely formed plump white hand was playing along Juno's
brown curly back; and close to Juno's tail, which was wagging with calm
matronly pleasure, the two brown pups were rolling over each other in an
ecstatic duet of worrying noises.
Pages:
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281