The Trumpet-Major by Thomas Hardy
page 57 of 455 (12%)
page 57 of 455 (12%)
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when she was interrupted by the appearance in the quadrangular
slough without of a large figure in the uniform of the yeomanry cavalry. 'What do you see out there?' said the farmer with a start, as she paused and slowly blushed. 'A soldier--one of the yeomanry,' said Anne, not quite at her ease. 'Scrounch it all--'tis my nephew!' exclaimed the old man, his face turning to a phosphoric pallor, and his body twitching with innumerable alarms as he formed upon his face a gasping smile of joy, with which to welcome the new-coming relative. 'Read on, prithee, Miss Garland.' Before she had read far the visitor straddled over the door-hurdle into the passage and entered the room. 'Well, nunc, how do you feel?' said the giant, shaking hands with the farmer in the manner of one violently ringing a hand-bell. 'Glad to see you.' 'Bad and weakish, Festus,' replied the other, his person responding passively to the rapid vibrations imparted. 'O, be tender, please-- a little softer, there's a dear nephew! My arm is no more than a cobweb.' 'Ah, poor soul!' 'Yes, I am not much more than a skeleton, and can't bear rough |
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