The
rain had increased, and they mechanically turned for shelter
towards the warm and cosy scene.
Close at their heels came another man, without over-coat or
umbrella, and with a parcel under his arm.
'A wet evening,' he said to the two friends, and passed by them.
They stood in the outer penthouse, but the man went in to the
fire.
The smith ceased his blowing, and began talking to the man who had
entered.
'I have walked all the way from Camelton,' said the latter. 'Was
obliged to come to-night, you know.'
He held the parcel, which was a flat one, towards the firelight,
to learn if the rain had penetrated it. Resting it edgewise on
the forge, he supported it perpendicularly with one hand, wiping
his face with the handkerchief he held in the other.
'I suppose you know what I've got here?' he observed to the smith.
'No, I don't,' said the smith, pausing again on his bellows.
'As the rain's not over, I'll show you,' said the bearer.
He laid the thin and broad package, which had acute angles in
different directions, flat upon the anvil, and the smith blew up
the fire to give him more light. First, after untying the
package, a sheet of brown paper was removed: this was laid flat.
Then he unfolded a piece of baize: this also he spread flat on the
paper. The third covering was a wrapper of tissue paper, which
was spread out in its turn. The enclosure was revealed, and he
held it up for the smith's inspection.
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