The Chronicles of Clovis
faced elderly maid brought in a teapot and poured him out a cup of tea. As he sat at the table a small spaniel came up and made friendly advances.
"'Tis old Bowker's pup," explained the old man, whom the hard-faced maid had addressed as George. She was main fond of you; never seemed the same after you went away to Australee. She died 'bout a year agone. 'Tis her pup."
Stoner found it difficult to regret her decease; as a witness for identification she would have left something to be desired.
"You'll go for a ride, Master Tom?" was the next startling proposition that came from the old man. "We've a nice little roan cob that goes well in saddle. Old Biddy is getting a bit up in years, though 'er goes well still, but I'll have the little roan saddled and brought round to door."
"I've got no riding things," stammered the castaway, almost laughing as he looked down at his one suit of well-worn clothes.
"Master Tom," said the old man earnestly, almost with an offended air, "all your things is just as you left them. A bit of airing before the fire an' they'll be all right. 'Twill
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