Papa Sherwood paid much attention to the niceties of dress,
despite the fact that his work at the Atwater Mills had called
for overalls and, frequently, oily hands. Uncle Henry evidently
knew little about stiff collars and laundered cuffs, or cravats,
smart boots, bosomed shirts, or other dainty wear for men. He
was quite innocent of giving any offence to the eye, however.
Lying back in the comfortable chair with his coat off and his
great lumberman's boots crossed, he laughed at anything Nan said
that chanced to be the least bit amusing, until the gas-globes
rang again.
It seemed to Nan as though there never was such a huge man
before. She doubted if Goliath could have looked so big to young
David, when the shepherd boy went out with his sling to meet the
giant. Uncle Henry was six feet, four inches in height and broad
in proportion. The chair creaked under his weight when he moved.
Other people in the car gazed on the quite unconscious giant as
wonderingly as did Nan herself.
"Uncle Henry," she asked him once, "are all the men in the Big
Woods as tall as you are?"
"Goodness me! No, child," he chuckled. "But the woods don't
breed many runts, that's a fact. There's some bigger than I.
Long Sam Dorgan is near seven feet he isn't quite sure, for
he's so ticklish that you can't ever measure him," and Uncle
Henry's chuckle burst into a full-fledged laugh.
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