AC dBooks

The lather on his upper lip
gave his face a fierce if rather grotesque expression.
"Oh, it's you," he said. "Sit down. Got to do this to-night--goodness
knows if I'll have time for it in the morning."
I took the seat in the ingle which Father Dan occupied on the night of
my birth. The fire had nearly burnt out.
"Thought you were in bed by this time. Guess I should have been in bed
myself but for this business. Look there"--he pointed with the handle of
his razor to the table littered with papers--"that's a bit of what I've
had to do for you. I kind o' think you ought to be grateful to your
father, my gel."
I told him he was very kind, and then, very nervously, said:
"But are you sure it's quite right, sir?"
Not catching my meaning he laughed.
"Right?" he said, holding the point of his nose aside between the tips
of his left thumb and first finger. "Guess it's about as right as law
and wax can make it."
"I don't mean that, sir. I mean. . . ."
"What?" he said, facing round.
Then trembling and stammering I told him.


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