We should
have Tim. As he played the great game, we should be watching his every
move. And when he won, how she and I would smile over it and say "I
told you so!" When he lost--Tim was never to lose, for Tim was
invincible! Tim was a man of brain and brawn. His arm was the
strongest in the valley; in all our country there was no face so fine
as his; in all the world few men so good and true.
Now he had come! The chair there was empty. So it would always be.
But here I should always be with my pipe and my crutches, and the dogs
snuggling by the fire.
Tim had come! The clock hands were crawling on and on. His minute had
better end. I hurled my pipe into the smouldering coals; I tossed a
crutch at little Colonel, and the dog ran howling from the room. Old
Captain sat up on his haunches, his slantwise eyes wide open with
wonder.
Aye, Captain, men are strange creatures. Their moods will change with
every clock-tick. One moment your master sits smoking and watching the
flames--the next he is tearing hatless from the house; and it is cold
outside and the wind in the chimney is tumbling down the soot.
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