urface of their faces, very few of them were
unbelievers in their secret hearts. Whenever they consulted him they
did it "for a fancy." When they paid him they said, "Just a trifle for
Christmas," or "Candlemas," as the case might be.

He would have preferred more honesty in his clients, and less sham
ridicule; but fundamental belief consoled him for superficial irony. As
stated, he was enabled to live; people supported him with their backs
turned. He was sometimes astonished that men could profess so little and
believe so much at his house, when at church they professed so much and
believed so little.

Behind his back he was called "Wide-oh," on account of his reputation;
to his face "Mr." Fall.

The hedge of his garden formed an arch over the entrance, and a door
was inserted as in a wall. Outside the door the tall traveller stopped,
bandaged his face with a handkerchief as if he were suffering from
toothache, and went up the path. The window shutters were not closed,
and he could see the prophet within, preparing his supper.

In answer to the knock Fall came to the door, candle in hand. The
visitor stepped back a little from the light, and said, "Can I speak
to 'ee?" in significant tones. The other's invitation to come in was
responded to by the country formula, "This will do, thank 'ee," after
which the householder had no alternative but to come out. He placed
the candle on the corner of the dresser, took his hat from a nail, and
joined the stranger in the porch, shutting the door behind him.

"I've long heard that you can--do things of a sort?" began the other,
repressing his individuality as much as he could.

"Maybe so, Mr. Henchard," said the weather-caster.

"Ah--why do you call me that?" asked the visitor with a start.

"Because it's your name. Feeling you'd come I've waited for 'ee;
and thinking you might be leery from your walk I laid two supper
plates--look ye here." He threw open the door and disclosed the
supper-table, at which appeared a second chair, knife and fork, plate
and mug, as he had declared.

Henchard felt like Saul at his reception by Samuel; he remained in
silence for a few moments, then throwing off the disguise of frigidity
which he had hitherto preserved he said, "Then I have not come in
vain....Now, for instance, can ye charm away warts?"

"Without trouble."

"Cure the evil?"

"That I've done--with consideration--if they will wear the toad-bag by
night as well as by day."