Ward's earnestness was positively aggressive, he said, and there seemed a sort of undress of the mind in his entire openness and frankness; his truthfulness, which ignored the courteous deceits of social life, was a kind of impropriety.
But John Ward had not noticed either the apology or the omission; no one answered the rector, so he went on talking, for mere occupation.
"I always liked Gifford as a boy," he said; "he was such a manly fellow, and no blatherskite, talking his elders to death.

He never had much to say, and when he did talk it was to the point.

I remember once seeing him--why, let me see, he couldn't have been more than fifteen--breaking a colt in the west pasture.

It was one of Bet's fillies, and as black as a coal: you remember her, don't you, Lois ?--a beauty! I was coming home from the village early in the morning; somebody was sick,--let me see, wasn't it old Mrs.Drayton?
yes,--and I'd been sent for; it must have been about six,--and there was Gifford struggling with that young mare in the west pasture.

He had thrown off his coat, and caught her by the mane and a rope bridle, and he was trying to ride her.