And
the man stared, and said nothing.
"Well, here we are," I announced--an imbecile assertion, but I produced
it as cheerfully and matter-of-factly as I knew how. I unhooked my arm
from Briggs's, and made as though to push him forward into the family
group.
"Nay!" said Briggs. "I mun take my top-coat off first."
I helped him off with his coat. Not one of the three members of his
family had either moved or spoken--beyond one faint murmur, not an
actual word, in response to my "Here we are." But Briggs seemed to know
that his folk were in the room with him, and he neither accosted them,
expressed any curiosity about them, or betrayed any astonishment at
their silence.
When he had got his coat off I expected him to move forward into the
room. A mistake. Mine must be a hasty temperament. They don't do things
like that in Yorkshire, not even when they have come home blinded from
the wars. Briggs put out his hand, felt for the cottage door, half
closed it, felt for a nail on the inner side of it, and carefully hung
his coat thereon.
_Now_ I could usher him into the waiting family circle.
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