he turned
his arm-chair more towards the fire, as much as to say, "Other people
are nothing to me."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

THIS arm-chair, of old-fashioned make, had lost an arm--the screw
remained sticking up, but the woodwork on that side was gone. It had
been accidentally broken some ten years since; yet, although he used the
chair every day, the arm had never been mended. Awkward as it was, he
let it alone.

"Hum! where's _The Standard_, then?" he said presently, as he nibbled
his cheese and sipped the ale which he had placed on the hob.

"Here it is, Pa," said Amaryllis, hastening with the paper.

"Thought you despised the papers?" said Mrs. Iden. "Thought there was
nothing but lies and rubbish in them, according to you?"

"No more thur bean't."

"You always take good care to read them, though."

"Hum!" Another deep grunt, and another slight turn of the chair. He
could not answer this charge of inconsistency, for it was a fact that
he affected to despise the newspaper and yet read it with avidity, and
would almost as soon have missed his ale as his news.

However, to settle with his conscience, he had a manner of holding the
paper half aslant a good way from him, and every now and then as he read
uttered a dissentient or disgusted grunt.

The master's taking up his paper was a signal for all other persons to
leave the room, and not to return till he had finished his news and his
nap.

Mrs. Iden and Amaryllis, as they went out, each took as many of the
dishes as they could carry, for it was uncertain when they could come in
again to clear the table. The cloth must not be moved, the door opened,
or the slightest sound heard till the siesta was over.

"Can't clear the dinner things till four o'clock," said Mrs. Iden as she
went, "and then you want your tea--senseless!" Amaryllis shut the door,
and the master was left to himself.

By-and-by, his cheese being finished, he dropped his newspaper, and
arranged himself for slumber. His left elbow he carefully fitted to the
remnant of the broken woodwork of the chair. The silk handkerchief, red
and yellow, he gathered into a loose pad in his left hand for his cheek
and temple to rest on. His face was thus supported by his hand and arm,
while the side of his head touched and rested against the wainscot of
the wall.

Just where his head touched it the wainscot had been worn away by the
daily pressure, leaving a round s