The Bachelors 
in need of blood-letting, so plump he looked— 
was smitten by the sight of a grindstone run 
from a gas-engine. Such a chance was not to 
be missed: Mr. Smith’s friend pulled out a 
substantial clasp-knife and proceeded to grind 
it, while we waited, looking on. But then, 
to try his handiwork, the farmer-friend passed 
his plump thumb over the knife-edge, and imme- 
diately fetched blood. His look of amazement 
was certainly funny; but Mr. Smith laughed 
like a mischievous schoolboy. 
So, however, he never laughed at any of Mr. 
Bachelor’s oddities. If he spoke of him with 
impatience, it was always with regard in the back- 
ground. And truly Bachelor needed tolerance. 
His sincerity was almost perverse. You could 
not help liking him, yet he seemed determined 
to make it hard. 
To be sure he was always kindly tome. Some- 
times on market-days he was to be seen along the 
Street—a shortish, thickish man, with nothing 
in particular to characterise him; and then it 
was pleasant enough to pass the time of day 
with him and go on. Pleasant enough, because 
his grey and shrewd eyes looked good-tempered 
in his round, unbearded face. Plainly he had 
been to the barber’s. Short grey hairs on the 
lapels of his market-coat showed it. He used 
to carry a little ash stick cut from a hedgerow. 
85 
