Heather and Snow by George MacDonald
page 12 of 271 (04%)
page 12 of 271 (04%)
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new-fangled under windows so narrow and high up, and within walls so
thick: without a fire it was always cold. The carpet was very dingy, and the mirrors were much spotted; but the poverty of the room was the respectable poverty of age: old furniture had become fashionable just in time to save it from being metamorphosed by its mistress into a show of gay meanness and costly ugliness. A good fire of mingled peat and coal burned bright in the barrel-fronted steel grate, and shone in the brass fender. The face of the boy continued to look very red in the glow, but still its colour came more from within than from without: he cherished the memory of his father, and did not love his mother more than a little. 'He has told me a great deal more about my father than ever you did, mother!' he answered. 'Well he may have!' she returned. 'Your father was not a young man when I married him, and they had been together through I don't know how many campaigns.' 'And you say he was not my father's friend!' 'Not his _friend_, Frank; his servant--what do they call them?--his orderly, I dare say; certainly not his friend.' 'Any man may be another man's friend!' 'Not in the way you mean; not that his son should go and see him every other day! A dog may be a man's good friend, and so was sergeant Barclay your father's--very good friend that way, I don't doubt!' |
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