The Reverend Mr. Dyceworthy was impatient and disgusted.
"It is a pity," he said with an air of solemn patience, "that this
hapless creature, accursed of God and man, is not placed in some proper
abode suitable to the treatment of his affliction. You, Britta, as the
favored servant of a--a--well, let us say, of a peculiar mistress,
should persuade her to send this--this--person away, lest his vagaries
become harmful."
Britta glanced very kindly at Sigurd, who still held her apron with the
air of a trustful child.
"He's no more harmful than you are," she said promptly, in answer to the
minister's remark. "He's a good fellow and if he talks strangely he can
make himself useful,--which is more than can be said of certain people.
He can saw and chop the wood, make hay, feed the cattle, pull a strong
oar, and sweep and keep the garden,--can't you, Sigurd?" She laid her
hand on Sigurd's shoulder, and he nodded his head emphatically, as she
enumerated his different talents. "And as for climbing,--he can guide
you anywhere over the hills, or up the streams to the big waterfalls--no
one better.
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