'
With these words he groped his way to the door, carrying his chair with
him. Then seating himself, under a spreading honeysuckle, and stretching
his legs across the threshold so that no person could pass in or out
without his knowledge, he took from his pocket a pipe, flint, steel and
tinder-box, and began to smoke. It was a lovely evening, of that gentle
kind, and at that time of year, when the twilight is most beautiful.
Pausing now and then to let his smoke curl slowly off, and to sniff the
grateful fragrance of the flowers, he sat there at his ease--as though
the cottage were his proper dwelling, and he had held undisputed
possession of it all his life--waiting for the widow's answer and for
Barnaby's return.
Chapter 46
When Barnaby returned with the bread, the sight of the pious old pilgrim
smoking his pipe and making himself so thoroughly at home, appeared
to surprise even him; the more so, as that worthy person, instead of
putting up the loaf in his wallet as a scarce and precious article,
tossed it carelessly on the table, and producing his bottle, bade him
sit down and drink.
'For I carry some comfort, you see,' he said. 'Taste that. Is it good?'
The water stood in Barnaby's eyes as he coughed from the strength of the
draught, and answered in the affirmative.
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