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household, and Pip was even more curious about the man now than before.
    A sudden image of pale silver eyes came into his head, and Pip felt his chest tighten strangely. He backed out of the house and closed the door before he was caught. The Applethwaites could deal with the gentleman. Pip would be more than happy to spend his days with the horse instead.

Chapter 3

     
    O VER THE next several days, things at the cottage settled again. The housekeeper fretted and fussed about feeding the major and seeing to his washing, but her hysteria seemed to have ebbed now that they all knew what to expect from him. The major wasn’t actually much trouble at all, from what Pip could tell. He kept to himself and only rang for the Applethwaites once or twice beyond his regular meal times. Mr. Applethwaite still grumbled endlessly about the “extra” work he had to do. But Pip’s own duties no longer seemed so overwhelming, and he was able to stop slinking about the place and rejoin the other two servants at most of their meals—his little incident with Agnes for all intents and purposes forgotten.
    As Pip expected, he had almost no interaction with his new master beyond their disastrous first meeting. He saw the major often at his library window, and every once in a while Pip would receive a nod of the head as he crossed the yard attending to his duties. But if the man ever came out to the barn again to inspect his brother’s present—the very reason Pip’s services had been retained in the first place—Pip never saw him, nor did he speak directly with him again.
    That first week, in addition to the deliveries of the post and feed for the animals, a few of the village notables paid calls to the major. Pip didn’t know any of them by name, nor did they deign to introduce themselves to someone as lowly as Pip, but he could tell their status by the fine cut of their clothes. The visits were never long and the major never sent for a carriage or his horse to return any of the calls, so soon enough the visitors stopped coming. In fact, the only time Pip ever saw the major outside the cottage at all was when the man went for a short walk each evening before dinner. He would limp slowly across the yard as the sun set behind the fells, stop on a small rise not far from the house, and simply stand there, his back stiff and his shoulders straight, gazing off into the distance as the world darkened around him. Then, after his lonely vigil, he would return the way he’d come and disappear into the house again.
    For reasons he didn’t understand, Pip began lingering over the horse during those times. At first, he hadn’t realized he was doing it. And when he did, Pip told himself he was only concerned for his master’s health. The major was obviously impaired in some way. If he fell or needed assistance, Pip would know it straight away and the poor man wouldn’t be left to cry for help until someone discovered him. But as the days passed, and the major appeared to recover some of his strength, moving more easily across the uneven ground, Pip continued to watch, despite the promise of a warm fire and a hearty dinner of his own awaiting him in kitchen.
    The way the major stood each night, wrapped in solitude and gazing at nothing, struck Pip as so very melancholy and tragic. Pip had no place intruding on the man’s privacy, and the major certainly wouldn’t thank him for it, so Pip simply waited, shivering in the shadows of the barn, until the major slowly made his way back to the yard and safely into the cottage again before he too went inside.
    The day the major did finally come out to the barn again, Pip was caught so completely off guard, he managed to make an ass of himself the second he opened his mouth. Late that morning, the sky clear and the sun warm despite the November chill, Pip eagerly looked forward to taking the horse out. He had just put the saddle on the horse’s back when a noise from the open doorway made him turn.