His face was wide and full, smoothly shaven, his cheeks pink, his eyes a pure, pale blue.

He was clad in a rumpled linen suit the trousers of which were drawn well up his plump legs above white socks and low black shoes, broad and loose fitting.

As the shadows had lengthened and the day cooled he abandoned a palm-leaf fan he had been languidly waving.

His face at the moment glowed with animation, for he played over the deciding game in that day's match at checkers by which, at the harness shop, he had vanquished an acclaimed rival from over Higgston way.

The fellow had been skilled beyond the average, but supremacy was still with the Newbern champion.
So absorbed was he, achieving again that last bit of strategy by which he had gained the place to capture two men and reach the enemy's king row, that his soft-stepping daughter, who had come from the house, had to address him twice.
"Have you had a good day, father ?" The judge was momentarily confused.