"No, I do not drink."
"You didn't happen to bring anything over with you, did
you, for seasickness on the boat?" Mr. Motherwell queried
anxiously, holding the lantern above his head.
"No, I did not," the young man said laconically.
"Turn out at five to-morrow morning then," his employer
snapped in evident disappointment, and he lowered the
lantern so quickly that it went out.
The young man lay down upon his hard bed. His utter
weariness was a blessing to him that night, for not even
the racing mice, the musty smells or the hardness of his
straw bed could keep him from slumber.
In what seemed to him but a few minutes, he was awakened
by a loud knocking on the door below, voices shouted, a
dog barked, cow-bells jangled; he could hear doors banging
everywhere, a faint streak of sunlight lay wan and pale
on the mud-plastered walls.
"By Jove!" he said yawning, "I know now what Kipling
meant when he said 'the dawn comes up like thunder.'"
A few weeks after Arthur's arrival, Mrs. Motherwell called
him from the barn, where he sat industriously mending
bags, to unhitch her horse from the buggy. She had just
driven home from Millford. Nobody had taken the trouble
to show Arthur how it was done.
"Any fool ought to know," Mr. Motherwell said.
Arthur came running from the barn with his hat in his
hand. He grasped the horse firmly by the bridle and led
him toward the barn. As they came near the water trough
the horse began to show signs of thirst.
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