CHAPTER VI.
From that night forward, David looked upon the farm and all his life there with other eyes.
Up till now, in spite of the perennial pressure of Hannah's tyrannies, which, however, weighed much less upon him than upon Louie, he had been--as he had let Reuben see--happy enough.

The open-air life, the animals, his books, out of all of them he managed to extract a very fair daily sum of enjoyment.

And he had been content enough with his daily tasks--herding the sheep, doing the rough work of the stable and cow-house, running Aunt Hannah's errands with the donkey-cart to Clough End, helping in the haymaking and the sheep-shearing, or the driving of stock to and from the various markets Reuben frequented.

All these things he had done with a curious placidity, a detachment and yet readiness of mind, as one who lends himself, without reluctance, to a life not his own.

It was this temper mainly, helped, no doubt, by his unusual tastes and his share of foreign blood and looks, which had set him apart from the other lads of his own class in the neighbourhood.