picturesquely on his battered features and mild blue eyes.
"He is too old to sit there in the damp and the dark," she said, "and I am afraid he will stay in that one spot all night. But I suppose there is no use in trying to persuade him not to."
Yes, it was quite possible that Michael would sit there all night in faithful guardianship of the people he loved. He would have many quaint thoughts for company so that the time would not be dull, he would have memories of those wide, free plains and towering mountains where he once was lonely lord of thousands of sheep, memories of those giant, white-coated dogs that sped to his rescue on the night that Ted Reynolds had saved him and won his devoted service for all time. But it was more likely that his thoughts would wander farther yet, that it was fairy hounds and fairy hills that his mind's eye would see, magic rings and dancing leprecauns and many another thing that only Michael's kind can know. So clear would be his vision—as he grew a little drowsy—that the very flowers and hedges about him would seem crowded with tiny, rustling figures and the warm night air be full of the beat of little wings. For such a person as Michael, no night spent in the garden could be really dull.
As David and Elizabeth came to the workshop
