square aperture. Everybody was wondering what Mr. Swaffer would do with
him.

"He simply kept him.

"Swaffer would be called eccentric were he not so much respected. They
will tell you that Mr. Swaffer sits up as late as ten o'clock at night
to read books, and they will tell you also that he can write a cheque
for two hundred pounds without thinking twice about it. He himself would
tell you that the Swaffers had owned land between this and Darnford for
these three hundred years. He must be eighty-five to-day, but he does
not look a bit older than when I first came here. He is a great breeder
of sheep, and deals extensively in cattle. He attends market days for
miles around in every sort of weather, and drives sitting bowed low over
the reins, his lank grey hair curling over the collar of his warm coat,
and with a green plaid rug round his legs. The calmness of advanced age
gives a solemnity to his manner. He is clean-shaved; his lips are thin
and sensitive; something rigid and monarchal in the set of his features
lends a certain elevation to the character of his face. He has been
known to drive miles in the rain to see a new kind of rose in somebody's
garden, or a monstrous cabbage grown by a cottager. He loves to hear
tell of or to be shown something that he calls 'outlandish.' Perhaps it
was just that outlandishness of the man which influenced old Swaffer.
Perhaps it was only an inexplicable caprice. All I know is that at
the end of three weeks I caught sight of Smith's lunatic digging in
Swaffer's kitchen garden. They had found out he could use a spade. He
dug barefooted.

"His black hair flowed over his shoulders. I suppose it was Swaffer
who had given him the striped old cotton shirt; but he wore still the