"Put me near the window, boys--no, the one looking
down the track. That's all right," as his couch came to anchor in the
bay of a window that gave a clear view of the homestead paddock. He
chatted to them awhile longer before wishing them good-night.
The stockmen tramped out, making violent efforts to be noiseless.
"Whisht, can't y'?" said Murty, indignantly, as Dave cannoned into a
chair in the hall. "Have y' not got anny manners at all, thin, Davy?
wid' him lyin' there, an' good luck to him! Did y' see how he made us
put his sofy in that square little winder?"
"Why?" asked the slower Mr. Boone.
"An' what but to see the first glimpse av them kids comin' home? Y' do
be an ass, Davy!" said Murty, pleasantly. "Begob, 'tis somethin' f'r a
man's eyes to see how Miss Norah handles that bay horse!"
Left to himself, David Linton made a pretence at reading a paper, but
his eyes were weary, and presently the sheet crackled to the floor, and
lay unheeded. Brownie, coming in softly, thought he had fallen asleep,
and tiptoed to the couch with a light rug, which she drew over him.
They handled him very carefully; although his clean, hard life had
helped him to make a wonderful recovery, his injuries had been severe;
and it would be many weeks yet before he could use his leg, even with
crutches.
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