'
And Rogers started so perceptibly that Jimbo shifted his weight a
little, thinking he must be uncomfortable. He had surely used that
very phrase himself! It was familiar. Even when using it he remembered
wondering whence its sweetness had dropped into his clumsier mind.
Minks uncrossed his legs, glanced up at him a moment, then crossed
them again. He made this sign, but, like Riquette, he said nothing....
The stream flowed on and on. Some one told a story. There was hushed
attentive listening, followed suddenly by bursts of laughter and
delight. Who told it, or what it was about, Rogers had no notion.
Monkey dug him in the ribs once because apparently he grunted at the
wrong moment, and Jimbo chided her beneath his breath--'Let him have a
nap if he wants to; a man's always tired after a long journey like
that...!' Some one followed with another story--Minks, was it, this
time?--for Rogers caught his face, as through a mist, turning
constantly to Mother for approval. It had to do with a vision of great
things that had come to a little insignificant woman on a bed of
sickness. He recognised the teller because he knew the tale of old.
The woman, he remembered, was Albinia's grandmother, and Minks was
very proud of it.
'That's a _very_ nice story,' rippled from the dim corner when it was
over.
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