A single puff of wind blows him from one character to another, and he may be noble and vicious, and a tyrant and a slave, and hard as granite and melting as butter in the sun, all in one forenoon.
All you can be sure of is that whatever he is he will be it in excess." "But I understood," said McLean, "that at present he is solely engaged on a war of extermination in the Den." "Ah, those exploits, I fancy, are confined to Saturday nights, and unfortunately his Saturday debauch does not keep him sober for the rest of the week, which we demand of respectable characters in these parts.
For the last day or two, for instance, he has been in mourning." "I had not heard of that." "No, I daresay not, and I'll give you the facts, if you'll fill your glass first.

But perhaps--" here the dominie's eyes twinkled as if a gleam of humor had been left him after all--"perhaps you have been more used of late to ginger wine ?" The visitor received the shock impassively as if he did not know he had been hit, and Cathro proceeded with his narrative.

"Well, for a day or two Tommy Sandys has been coming to the school in a black jacket with crape on the cuffs, and not only so, he has sat quiet and forlorn-like at his desk as if he had lost some near and dear relative.

Now I knew that he had not, for his only relative is a sister whom you may have seen at the Hanky School, and both she and Aaron Latta are hearty.

Yet, sir (and this shows the effect he has on me), though I was puzzled and curious I dared not ask for an explanation." "But why not ?" was the visitor's natural question.
"Because, sir, he is such a mysterious little sacket," replied Cathro, testily, "and so clever at leading you into a hole, that it's not chancey to meddle with him, and I could see through the corner of my eye that, for all this woeful face, he was proud of it, and hoped I was taking note.