Caddy Buddy books

I know it's shocking blasphemy to say so, but then it's
different here, you see. We are farther away."
"To tell you the truth, Seaton, I don't quite see," I said; "but it
isn't a new philosophy, is it? Anyhow, it's a precious beastly one."
"It's only what I think," he replied, with all his odd old stubborn
meekness.
We wandered on together, talking little, and still with that expression
of uneasy vigilance on Seaton's face. He pulled out his watch as we
stood gazing idly over the green meadow and the dark motionless
bulrushes.
"I think, perhaps, it's nearly time for lunch," he said. "Would you
like to come in?"
We turned and walked slowly towards the house, across whose windows I
confess my own eyes, too, went restlessly wandering in search of its
rather disconcerting inmate. There was a pathetic look of draggledness,
of want of means and care, rust and overgrowth and faded paint.
Seaton's aunt, a little to my relief, did not share our meal. Seaton
carved the cold meat, and dispatched a heaped-up plate by the elderly
servant for his aunt's private consumption.


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