Leave-Takings
A few days after the tragic passage-at-arms between Hollingsworth and
me, I appeared at the dinner-table actually dressed in a coat, instead
of my customary blouse; with a satin cravat, too, a white vest, and
several other things that made me seem strange and outlandish to
myself. As for my companions, this unwonted spectacle caused a great
stir upon the wooden benches that bordered either side of our homely
board.
"What's in the wind now, Miles?" asked one of them. "Are you deserting
us?"
"Yes, for a week or two," said I. "It strikes me that my health demands
a little relaxation of labor, and a short visit to the seaside, during
the dog-days."
"You look like it!" grumbled Silas Foster, not greatly pleased with the
idea of losing an efficient laborer before the stress of the season was
well over. "Now, here's a pretty fellow! His shoulders have broadened
a matter of six inches since he came among us; he can do his day's
work, if he likes, with any man or ox on the farm; and yet he talks
about going to the seashore for his health! Well, well, old woman,"
added he to his wife, "let me have a plateful of that pork and cabbage!
I begin to feel in a very weakly way. When the others have had their
turn, you and I will take a jaunt to Newport or Saratoga!"
breath."
"Breath!" retorted the old yeoman. "Your lungs have the play of a pair
of blacksmith's bellows already. What on earth do you want more? But
go along! I understand the business. We shall never see your face
here again. Here ends the reformation of the world, so far as Miles
Coverdale has a hand in it!"
