rish to unnecessary trouble."

"And there's this here man never letting us have a bit o' peace; but
keeping on about being good and upright till 'tis carried to such a pitch
as I never see the like afore nor since!"

"No sooner had he got here than he found the font wouldn't hold water, as
it hadn't for years off and on; and when I told him that Mr. Grinham
never minded it, but used to spet upon his vinger and christen 'em just
as well, 'a said, 'Good Heavens! Send for a workman immediate. What
place have I come to!' Which was no compliment to us, come to that."

"Still, for my part," said old William, "though he's arrayed against us,
I like the hearty borussnorus ways of the new pa'son."

"You, ready to die for the quire," said Bowman reproachfully, "to stick
up for the quire's enemy, William!"

"Nobody will feel the loss of our church-work so much as I," said the old
man firmly; "that you d'all know. I've a-been in the quire man and boy
ever since I was a chiel of eleven. But for all that 'tisn't in me to
call the man a bad man, because I truly and sincerely believe en to be a
good young feller."

Some of the youthful sparkle that used to reside there animated William's
eye as he uttered the words, and a certain nobility of aspect was also
imparted to him by the setting sun, which gave him a Titanic shadow at
least thirty feet in length, stretching away to the east in outlines of
imposing magnitude, his head finally terminating upon the trunk of a
grand old oak-tree.

"Mayble's a hearty feller enough," the tranter replied, "and will spak to
you be you dirty or be you clane. The first time I met en was in a
drong, and though 'a didn't know me no more than the dead, 'a passed the
time of day. 'D'ye do?' he said, says he, nodding his head. 'A fine
day.' Then the second time I met en was full-buff in town street, when
my breeches were tore into a long strent by getting through a copse of
thorns and brimbles for a short cut home-along; and not wanting to
disgrace the man by spaking in that state, I fixed my eye on the
weathercock to let en pass me as a stranger. But no: 'How d'ye do,
Reuben?' says he, right hearty, and shook my hand. If I'd been dressed
in silver spangles from top to toe, the man couldn't have been civiller."

At this moment Dick was seen coming up the village-street, and they
turned and watched him.

CHAPTER III: A TURN IN THE DISCUSSION

"I'm afraid Dick's a lost man," said th