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Then the wind fell, and Dampier, who got an observation, armed his deep-sea lead, and, finding shells and shoal water, went aft to talk to Wyllard with the strip of Dunton's chart. Wyllard, who was clad in oilskins, stood by the wheel. His face was tanned and roughened by cold and stinging brine. There was an open sore upon one of his elbows, and both his wrists were raw.
In fact, John found that Huldah had come into possession of only such facts and truths as could be reached in her narrow life, but that she had assimilated them and thought about them, and that it was more refreshing to hear her original and piquant remarks about the topics she was acquainted with than to listen to the tireless stream of Janet Dunton's ostentatious erudition.
"If you want any help of his toward a position.... Time's passing. And a man can't be expected to bestir himself much for another man he's never even seen." "All right. I'll go with you." Randolph was glad to see Cope again, whom he had not met since the half hour in Hortense Dunton's studio. He was also glad to secure, finally, a close and leisurely look at Lemoyne.
Can't you get on?" Dampier grinned. "We're on soundings, and they and Dunton's longitude most agree. With this wind we should pick the beach up in the next two days. Next question is, where those men were?" "Where they are," said Wyllard. "If they've pushed on it's probably a different thing, though if they'd food yonder I don't quite see why they'd want to push on anywhere.
"What is the matter?" said Ellis, stepping out, with Daniel Barnett backing away from the porch before him. "Poor owd Dunton's gone, sir; dropped off dead ripe at last just gone to sleep." James Ellis looked Daniel Barnett in the eyes, and both had the same thought in their minds. What a change in the younger man's prospects this last stroke of fate had made!
While exercising, in his pastoral duties, a diligence and faithfulness such as to put him for the most part above censure, the young husband toiled hard in literary work for the support of his household, and by various publications of a theological character in verse and prose at one time a metrical Life of Christ, at another a treatise on The Hebrew Points, and chiefly by articles in Dunton's Athenian Oracle he earned the means of keeping his family at least above distress.
Then the wind fell, and Dampier, who got an observation, armed his deep-sea lead, and finding shells and shoal water came aft to talk to Wyllard with the strip of Dunton's chart. Wyllard, who was clad in oilskins, stood, a shapeless figure, by the wheel, with his face darkened and roughened by cold and stinging brine. There was an open sore upon one of his elbows, and both his wrists were raw.
The real John Dunton has not the boundless spirits of the fictitious John Buncle; but in their religious fervour, their passion for flirtation, their tireless egotism, and their love of character-sketching, they greatly resemble one another. It is this last characteristic that imparts real value to Dunton's book, and makes it, despite its verbiage and tortuosity, throb with human interest.
I think if John had known how strong his father's feeling was against this much cherished product he would have mowed the crop and grazed the field closely until he got back to the city. John was not insensible to Janet Dunton's charms.
I'm seeing to everything quite proper, for I don't trust Master Dan Barnett a bit. He's thinking too much o' finding scuses to go up to the cottage, and I know why. There, good-night. Get well, lad. I do want to see that bandage from over your eyes next time I come. Old Dunton's mortal bad, they say. Good-night."
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