What's the good of
the country, anyhow, sor, except to make picters in? Of course, it's
different wid you, sor, not knowin' the city, but for me--why God rest
yer soul, sor, I wouldn't give one cobble of the Strand no bigger'n me
fist for the best farm in Surrey.
"Call me, sor, next time ye're passin' my rank--any time after twelve
at night, and I'll show ye fun enough to last ye yer life."
Something dropped out of the landscape that day--something of its
brilliancy, color, and charm. The water seemed sluggish, the sky-tones
dull, the meadows flat and commonplace.
It must have been Fin's laugh!
LONG JIM
Jim met me at the station. I knew it was Jim when I caught sight of him
loping along the platform, craning his neck, his head on one side as if
in search of someone. He had the same stoop in his shoulders; the same
long, disjointed, shambling body--six feet and more of it--that had
earned him his soubriquet.
"Guess you be him," he said, recognizing me as easily, his face breaking
suddenly into a broad smile as I stepped on to the platform.
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