لخّصلي

Outside, the night was cold and wet.His wife, a white-haired old lady, sat knitting quietly by the fire.An old man, Mr White, was playing chess with his son, Herbert.The garden gate banged shut and heavy footsteps came towards the door.But inside the small house, the fire burned brightly.It's raining so hard that the road outside is like a river.''There he is,' said Herbert.Herbert and his mother heard him talking to someone in the hall.'Listen to the wind,' said Mr White.'I don't think my old friend will come tonight.Mr White got up quickly, and went to open the front door.A few minutes later, Mr White came back into the room.A tall man with a red face was with him.

Outside, the night was cold and wet. But inside the small house, the fire burned brightly. An old man, Mr White, was playing chess with his son, Herbert. His wife, a white-haired old lady, sat knitting quietly by the fire.

'Listen to the wind,' said Mr White. 'I don't think my old friend will come tonight. It's raining so hard that the road outside is like a river.'

'There he is,' said Herbert. The garden gate banged shut and heavy footsteps came towards the door. Mr White got up quickly, and went to open the front door. Herbert and his mother heard him talking to someone in the hall. A few minutes later, Mr White came back into the room. A tall man with a red face was with him.

"This is Sergeant Major Morris,' said Mr White, introducing his guest.

The sergeant major shook hands, and sat down by the fire. Mrs White went and brought tea. The sergeant drank three cups of tea. Then he began to talk.

The family listened to him eagerly. The sergeant major talked about his life in the British army. He had spent many years in India with the army, and had had many adventures.

'He's been away for twenty-one years,' said Mr White to his