His uncut hair, rather darker than auburn, fell down to his waist, and his shaggy red beard lay upon his bosom.

Instead of a coat he wore that unique garment of linsey-woolsey known in the West as wa'mus (warm us ?), a sort of over-shirt.

He was forty-five, but there were streaks of gray in his hair and board, and he looked older by ten years.
"What ho, good friend?
Is that you ?" he cried.

"Come up, and right welcome!" For his language was as archaic and perhaps as incongruous as his architecture.

And then throwing out of the window a rope-ladder, he called out again, "Ascend! ascend! my brave young friend!" And young Wehle climbed up the ladder into the large upper room.