Baines, as soon as I can contrive to open the door,"
replied a male voice, a voice that appeared incapable of expressing
impatience; a gentle voice; the voice of a man who would dream dreams
but perform few actions.
"Um!... It's you, hey? What d'you allus carry books under your arm for?
How d'you calculate to be able to open doors, with both hands full?"
The knob turned at last, and Nahum Pound, long schoolmaster in the
little district school on Hiper Hill, came in hesitatingly, clutching
with each arm half a dozen books which struggled to escape with the
ingenuity of inanimate objects. Nahum's hair was white; his face was
vague--lovably vague.... A man of considerable, if confused, learning,
he was.
"Well?" said Scattergood. "Got suthin' on to your mind? Commence
unloadin' it before it busts your back."
"It's Sarah," said Nahum, helplessly.
"Um!... Sairy, eh? What's Sairy up to?"
"I don't seem to gather, Mr. Baines. She's--she's difficult. Something
seems to be working in her head."
"Twenty-two, hain't she? Twenty-two?... Prob'ly a number of things
a-workin' in her head. Got any special symptoms?"
"She--she wants to leave home, Mr.
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