large/9551/sirgibbie_1705_librivox_64kb_mp3/sirgibbie_07_macdonald_64kb_11
large/9551/sirgibbie_1705_librivox_64kb_mp3/sirgibbie_07_macdonald_64kb
English
9551
Sometimes he stood at the back of a baker's oven, for he knew all the haunts of heat about the city; sometimes he buried himself in the sids (_husks of oats_) lying ready to feed the kiln of a meal mill; sometimes he lay by the furnace of the steam engine of the water works. One man employed there, when his time was at night, always made a bed for Gibbie: he had lost his own only child, and this one of nobody's was a comfort to him. SOMETIMES HE STOOD AT THE BACK OF A BAKER'S OVEN FOR HE KNEW ALL THE HAUNTS OF HEAT ABOUT THE CITY SOMETIMES HE BURIED HIMSELF IN THE CIDS HUSKS OF OATS LYING READY TO FEED THE KILN OF A MEAL MILL SOMETIMES HE LAY BY THE FURNACE OF THE STEAM ENGINE OF THE WATERWORKS ONE MAN EMPLOYED THERE WHEN HIS TIME WAS AT NIGHT ALWAYS MADE A BED FOR GIBBEY HE HAD LOST HIS OWN ONLY CHILD AND THIS ONE OF NOBODY'S WAS A COMFORT TO HIM
the spell of a necromancer would still call up the figure of the dame irate, in her horn spectacles and her black-ribboned cap, leaning with one arm on her crutch, and with the other uplifting what was with her no mere symbol of authority. Like a shell from a mortar, he departed from the house. She hobbled to the door after him, but his diminutive figure many yards away, his little bare legs misty with swiftness as he ran, was the last she ever saw of him, and her pupils had a bad time of it the rest of the day. He never even entered the street again in which she lived. Thus, after one night’s brief interval of respectability, he was again a rover of the city, a flitting insect that lighted here and there, and spread wings of departure the moment a fresh desire awoke. It would be difficult to say where he slept. In summer anywhere; in winter where he could find warmth. Like animals better clad than he, yet like him able to endure cold, he revelled in mere heat when he could come by it. Y STAFF IN QUOTE LIKE THE SPELL OF A NECROMANCER WOULD STILL CALL UP THE FIGURE OF THE DAME IRATE IN HER HORN SPECTACLES AND HER BLACK RIBBON CAP LEANING WITH ONE ARM ON HER CRUTCH AND WITH THE OTHER UPLIFTING WHAT WAS WITH HER NO MERE SYMBOL OF AUTHORITY LIKE A SHELL FROM A MORTAR HE DEPARTED FROM THE HOUSE SHE HOBBLED TO THE DOOR AFTER HIM BUT HIS DIMINUTIVE FIGURE MANY YARDS AWAY HIS LITTLE BARE LEGS MISTY WITH SWIFTNESS AS HE RAN WAS THE LAST SHE EVER SAW OF HIM AND HER PUPILS HAD A BAD TIME OF IT THE REST OF THE DAY HE NEVER EVEN ENTERED THE STREET AGAIN IN WHICH SHE LIVED THUS AFTER ONE NIGHT'S BRIEF INTERVAL OF RESPECTABILITY HE WAS AGAIN A ROVER OF THE CITY A FLITTING INSECT THAT LIGHTED HERE AND THERE AND SPREAD WEEDS OF DEPARTURE IN THE MOMENT A FRESH DESIRE AWOKE IT WOULD BE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHERE HE SLEPT IN SUMMER ANYWHERE IN WINTER WHERE HE COULD FIND WARMTH LIKE ANIMALS BETTER CLAD THAN HE YET LIKE HIM ABLE TO ENDURE COLD HE REVELLED IN MERE HEAT WHEN HE COULD COME BY IT
large/9551/sirgibbie_1705_librivox_64kb_mp3/sirgibbie_07_macdonald_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/9551/sirgibbie_1705_librivox_64kb_mp3/sirgibbie_07_macdonald_64kb.flac