Part Two Chapter 11 Christmas Day

When Grey awoke the next morning there was a little pile of snow on the foot of his bed, which stood near a window, and more on the hearth, which had sifted down the chimney, while the wind was, if possible, blowing harder than on the previous night.

"Whew!" Grey said, as he rubbed his cold nose, "I believe this beats Allington! How shall I ever get myself together?"

Just then Anthony came in with jugs of hot water and a huge soapstone on which he said the young man was to stand while he dressed himself.

"Sharp weather this, even for Wales!" he began, as he lingered a little and put back the curtains to admit more light.

"Sorry, sir, I cannot make you a fire. Hope the cold did not keep you awake?"

"Never slept better in my life, I did not mind the cold at all," Grey said, and Anthony continued: "Yes, you like air, Tisicky my old woman says, and she sent me out last night for a pipe and some cubebs which you are to smoke three times a day. Nothing like cubebs for your disorder. Had it long?"

"Thank you, no, sir; you are very kind," Grey said, with a little groan, as he wondered if the confounded things would make him sick, inasmuch as he had never smoked in his life.