That's the sperrit--shoot 'igh,
ah! shoot at the sun and you're bound to 'it summat if it's only a
tree or a 'ay-stack. So, if you can't be a dook or a prince, you can
allus be--a man--if you try 'ard enough. What--are ye going, young
sir?"
"Yes," answered Barnabas, leaning down from the saddle, "good-by,
and thank you for your advice," and he stretched out his hand.
Hereupon the pedler of books rose to his feet and rather diffidently
clasped the proffered hand. So Barnabas smiled down at him, nodded
and rode upon his way, but as for the Pedler, he stood there,
staring after him open-mouthed, and with the yellow coins shining
upon his palm.
CHAPTER LXXVIII
WHICH TELLS HOW BARNABAS CAME HOME AGAIN, AND HOW HE AWOKE FOR THE
FOURTH TIME
Evening was falling as Barnabas came to the top of the hill and,
drawing rein, paused there to look down at a certain inn. It was a
somewhat small and solitary inn, an ancient inn with many lattices,
and with pointed gables whose plaster and cross-beams were just now
mellowed by the rosy glow of sunset.
Surely, surely, nowhere in all broad England could there be found
just such another inn as this, or one more full of that reposeful
dignity which only age can bestow.
Pages:
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828