"Hamley made
him--Hamley made him. We did not spare advice, or example, or any
correction that came to our minds--indeed, it was almost a luxury. Think
you, does he still play the flute--an instrument none too grave, Luke?"
But, to this, Luke Claridge exclaimed impatiently and hastened on; and
the little wizened Elder chuckled to himself all the way to the house of
John Fairley. None in Hamley took such pride in David as did these two
old men, who had loved him from a child, but had discreetly hidden their
favour, save to each other. Many times they had met and prayed together
in the weeks when his life was in notorious danger in the Soudan.
As David walked through the streets of Heddington making for the open
country, he was conscious of a new feeling regarding the place. It was
familiar, but in a new sense. Its grimy, narrow streets, unlovely houses,
with shut windows, summer though it was, and no softening influences
anywhere, save here and there a box of sickly geraniums in the windows,
all struck his mind in a way they had never done before.
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