Explore "God and the Man" by Robert W. Buchanan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A few days after the first meeting of Christian Christianson and Priscilla Sefton, Cobbler Marvel stood leaning over his garden gate, and looking moodily at vacancy. His hymn-book was in his hand, his red cotton nightcap was on his head, and he was in his shirt-sleeves. Nevertheless, the church bells were ringing, and it was Sunday. Cobbler Marvel's only recognition of the day was significant, though peculiarly simple: he had washed his face.
He was a gaunt, grim-looking man of about sixty, with grey hair and beard, a copper-coloured nose, and a weather-beaten complexion. His long legs were cased in rusty brown small-clothes and torn stockings; his shirt was of red wool; his waistcoat, which he wore unbuttoned, for coolness, of brown cloth. His nightcap was cocked somewhat fiercely over the only eye he had--the right one--and he had altogether the appearance of a person who would stand no nonsense.