On the whole, he was rather glad than not to see his young friend's back.
From his smithy window Mendarva spied Taffy coming along the road, and stepped out on the green to shake hands with him.
"Pleased to see your face, my son! You'll excuse my not asking 'ee inside; but the fact is"-- he jerked his thumb towards the smithy--" we've a-got our troubles in there." It came on our youth with something of a shock that the world had room for any trouble beside his own.
"'Tis the Dane.

He went over to Truro yesterday to the wrastlin', an' got thrawed.

I tell'n there's no call to be shamed.

'Twas Luke the Wendron fella did it--in the treble play--inside lock backward, and as pretty a chip as ever I see." Mendarva began to illustrate it with foot and ankle, but checked himself, and glanced nervously over his shoulder.

"Isn' lookin', I hope?
He's in a terrible pore about it.