"Middlin'," answered the man, a woodcutter on the Steens estate.
"He took it at three in the morning and never said another word, but
passed away a little under two hours agone; and the funeral's on
Thursday."
Roger laid down the watch and stood erect. The band in the street still
thumped out the Flora tune.
"Malachi," said he, "can you dance the Flora?"
"Bejimbers!" answered Malachi, "the old man did his best to spoil my legs,
but I feel like trying."