"Well, sir, 'tis fine to be an elder son, that's true, an' dunna ye take
on about it. You bin on'y a lad, after all, pardon my bold way o'
speakin', an' mebbe when you come to man's estate, why, theer'll be a
knife an' fork fur you too, though I doubt we'll never see General Clive
in these parts no moore. Here be my turnin'; good night to ya, sir."
"Good night, Dickon."
And Desmond Burke passed on alone, out of the silent town, into the now
darkening road that led to his home towards Cheswardine.
Chapter 2: In which our hero overhears a conversation; and, meeting
with the unexpected, is none the less surprised and offended.
Desmond's pace became slower when, having crossed the valley, he began
the long ascent that led past the site of Tyrley Castle. But when he
again reached a stretch of level road he stepped out more briskly, for
the darkness of the autumn night was moment by moment contracting the
horizon, and he had still several miles to go on the unlighted road. Even
as the thought of his dark walk crossed his mind he caught sight of the
one light that served as a never-failing beacon to night travelers along
that highway. It came from the windows of a wayside inn, a common place
of call for farmers wending to or from Drayton Market, and one whose
curious sign Desmond had many times studied with a small boy's interest.
The inn was named the "Four Alls": its sign, a crude painting of a table
and four seated figures, a king, a parson, a soldier, and a farmer.
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