It had been a weaving-shop originally, full of hand-looms, when the
trade in linen was more prosperous than it was now. From the thatch
some of the night's frost was already dripping in slow clear drops.
Past the door, which was in a line with the windows, went a gutter, the
waters of which sank through a small grating a few steps further on.
But there was no water running in it now.
Suddenly a boy cried out: "The maister's comin'!" and instantly the
noise sunk to a low murmur. Looking up the lane, which rose
considerably towards the other end, Annie saw the figure of the
descending dominie. He was dressed in what seemed to be black, but was
in reality gray, almost as good as black, and much more thrifty. He
came down the hill swinging his arms, like opposing pendulums, in a
manner that made the rapid pace at which he approached like a long slow
trot. With the door-key in his hand, already pointed towards the
key-hole, he went right through the little crowd, which cleared a wide
path for him, without word or gesture of greeting on either side. I
might almost say he swooped upon the door, for with one hand on the
key, and the other on the latch, he seemed to wrench it open the moment
he touched it.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62