It was opened, almost immediately, by Corporal Richard Roe himself,
who stared a moment, smiled, and thereupon extended a huge hand.
"What, is it you, sir?" he exclaimed, "for a moment I didn't know ye.
Step in, sir, step in, we're proud to see ye."
So saying, he ushered Barnabas down two steps into the small but
very snug chamber that he remembered, with its rows upon rows of
shelves whereon a whole regiment of bottles and glasses were drawn
up in neat array, "dressed" and marshalled as if on parade; it was
indeed a place of superlative tidiness where everything seemed to be
in a perpetual state of neatness and order.
In a great elbow chair beside the ingle, with a cushion at his back
and another beneath one foot, sat Mr. Shrig puffing at a pipe and
with his little reader open on the table at his elbow. He looked a
little thinner and paler than usual, and Barnabas noticed that one
leg was swathed in bandages, but his smile was as innocent and
guileless and his clasp as warm as ever as they greeted each other.
"You must ax-cuse me rising, sir," said he, "the sperrit is villing
but natur' forbids, it can't be done on account o' this here leg o'
mine,--a slug through the stamper, d' ye see, vich is bad enough,
though better than it might ha' been.
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