'What do you see out there?' said the farmer with a start, as she
paused and slowly blushed.
'A soldier--one of the yeomanry,' said Anne, not quite at her ease.
'Scrounch it all--'tis my nephew!' exclaimed the old man, his face
turning to a phosphoric pallor, and his body twitching with
innumerable alarms as he formed upon his face a gasping smile of
joy, with which to welcome the new-coming relative. 'Read on,
prithee, Miss Garland.'
Before she had read far the visitor straddled over the door-hurdle
into the passage and entered the room.
'Well, nunc, how do you feel?' said the giant, shaking hands with
the farmer in the manner of one violently ringing a hand-bell.
'Glad to see you.'
'Bad and weakish, Festus,' replied the other, his person responding
passively to the rapid vibrations imparted. 'O, be tender, please--
a little softer, there's a dear nephew! My arm is no more than a
cobweb.'
'Ah, poor soul!'
'Yes, I am not much more than a skeleton, and can't bear rough
usage.'
'Sorry to hear that; but I'll bear your affliction in mind. Why,
you are all in a tremble, Uncle Benjy!'
''Tis because I am so gratified,' said the old man. 'I always get
all in a tremble when I am taken by surprise by a beloved relation.'
'Ah, that's it!' said the yeoman, bringing his hand down on the back
of his uncle's chair with a loud smack, at which Uncle Benjy
nervously sprang three inches from his seat and dropped into it
again. 'Ask your pardon for frightening ye, uncle.
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