Retiring 
that he was becoming an old man. Years 
indeed were to go by before he was utterly done 
for—before rheumatism across the hips entirely 
crippled him. One only saw ruthless change 
beginning. Old age did not rush upon him in 
a hurry. On the other hand, it was not quite 
kindly in its coming. It marred him, if slowly, 
still pitilessly, because of pain mixed with it—pain, 
or at any rate increasing discomfort. He was 
cruelly ruptured. Eczema—a foe for years— 
fixed upon him at last, and the gin fomentations 
of his earlier days had to be given up. They 
were useless after all. 
At tea—he liked his tea very hot—he was 
more and more ready to sit back in an easy-chair 
by the fire and to have his bread-and-butter 
handed to him. When he sat up to the table 
it grew ever more noticeable how bent his back 
was and how close his grey beard was getting 
down to the plate. Perhaps I am anticipating 
a little. Yet there is no doubt that he felt these 
changes beginning; no doubt, either, that every- 
one concurred in the wisdom of the step, when at 
last he decided to hand on his farm to his sons. 
The landlord willingly accepted them for tenants : 
the farmer sold them his stock-in-trade at a 
valuation, keeping only his milk-round, with 
the old pony and cart, for his own use. That 
he did not yet give up. He wanted occupation. 
III 
