He was about the age of Godfrey, possibly a little
shorter and stouter. He had a freckled face, full of good humor, but
at the same time resolute and determined. He appeared to be one who
had a will of his own, but not inclined to interfere with others,
though ready to stand up for his own rights. In dress he compared very
unfavorably with the young aristocrat, who was biting his lips with
vexation. In fact, though he is my hero, his dress was far from
heroic. He had no vest, and his coat was ragged, as well as his pants.
He had on a pair of shoes two or three times too large for him. They
had not been made to order, but had been given him by a gentleman of
nearly double his size, and fitted him too much. He wore a straw hat,
for it was summer, but the brim was semi-detached, and a part of his
brown hair found its way through it.
Now Godfrey was just in the mood for picking a quarrel with somebody,
and as there was no excuse for quarreling any further with John, he
was rather glad to pitch into the young stranger.
"Who are you?" he demanded, in his usual imperious tone, and with a
contraction of the brow.
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