from good will. His form was bent over upon itself
like a bow; and only from the glances he shot from his upturned eyes was
the fact made evident that a redoubtable nature, full of force and
malignity, had just brought its quota of evil into a room already
overflowing with dangerous and menacing passions.

As this old wretch, either from the feebleness of age or from the
infirmity I have mentioned, had great difficulty in walking, he had
brought with him a small boy, whose business it was to direct his
tottering steps as best he could.

But once settled in his chair, he drove away this boy with his pointed
oak stick, and with some harsh words about caring for the horse and
being on time in the morning, he sent him out into the mist. As this
little shivering and pathetic figure vanished, the old man drew, with
gasp and haw, a number of deep breaths which shook his bent back and did
their share, no doubt, in restoring his own disturbed circulation. Then,
with a sinister twist which brought his pointed chin and twinkling eyes
again into view, he remarked:

"Haven't ye a word for kinsman Luke, you two? It isn't often I get out
among ye. Shakee, nephew! Shakee, Hector! And now who's the boy in the
window? My eyes aren't what they used to be, but he don't seem to favor
the Westonhaughs over-much. One of Salmon's four grandchildren, think
'e? Or a shoot from Eustace's gnarled old trunk? His gals all married
Americans, and one of them, I've been told, was a yellow-haired giant
like this fellow."

As this description pointed directly toward me, I was about to venture a
response on my own account, when my attention, as well as theirs, was
freshly attracted by a loud "Whoa!" at the gate, followed by the hasty
but assured entrance of a dapper, wizen, but perfectly preserved little
old gentleman with a bag in his hand. Looking askance with eyes that
were like two beads, first at the two men who were now elbowing each
other for the best place before the fire, and then at the revolting
figure in the chair, he bestowed his greeting, which consisted of an
elaborate bow, not on them, but upon the picture hanging so
conspicuously on the open wall before him; and then, taking me within
the scope of his quick, circling glance, cried out with an assumption of
great cordiality:

"Good evening, gentlemen; good evening one, good evening all. Nothing
like being on the tick. I'm sorry the night has turned out so badly.
Some may find it too