Moore went out, chuckling dryly. He advanced into the yard, one hand in his pocket, the other in his waistcoat, his cap brim over his eyes, shading in some measure their deep dancing ray of scorn. Twelve men waited in the yard, some in their shirt-sleeves, some in blue aprons. Two figured conspicuously in the van of the party. One, a little dapper strutting man with a turned-up nose; the other a broad-shouldered fellow, distinguished no less by his demure face and cat like, trustless eyes than by a wooden leg and stout crutch. There was a kind of leer about his lips; he seemed laughing in his sleeve at some person or thing; his whole air was anything but that of a true man.
"Good-morning, Mr. Barraclough," said Moore debonairly, for him.
"Peace be unto you!" was the answer, Mr. Barraclough entirely closing his naturally half-shut eyes as he delivered it.

Moore went out, chuckling dryly. He advanced into the yard, one hand in his pocket, the other in his waistcoat, his cap brim over his eyes, shading their deep dancing ray of scorn.
Twelve men waited in the yard, with two in front: one, a little dapper strutting man with a turned-up nose; the other a broad-shouldered fellow, with demure, cat like, trustless eyes, and a wooden leg and crutch. He seemed laughing in his sleeve at some person or thing.
"Good-morning, Mr. Barraclough," said Moore to him.
"Peace be unto you!" answered Mr. Barraclough, entirely closing his naturally half-shut eyes.
