He was used to it; it made him feel at home once more.

He worked hard and silently.
Mick did not return till late.

He had been drawing wood for Horton that day, which was the reason he happened in Quonab's neighbourhood; but his road lay by the tavern, and when he arrived home he was too helpless to do more than mutter.
The next day there was an air of suspended thunder.

Rolf overheard his uncle cursing "that ungrateful young scut--not worth his salt." But nothing further was said or done.

His aunt did not strike at him once for two days.