ns--but who, nevertheless, is always engaged in picking the pockets of
her sisters, tried to filch from him his lawful recompense. The case was
perplexing; for the Parson held Susceptibility in great honor, despite her
hypocritical tricks, and did not like to give her a slap in the face,
which might frighten her away forever. So Mr. Dale stood irresolute,
glancing from the sixpence to Lenny, and from Lenny to the sixpence.

"_Buon giorno_--good-day to you," said a voice behind, in an accent
slightly but unmistakably foreign, and a strange-looking figure presented
itself at the stile.

Imagine a tall and exceedingly meagre man, dressed in a rusty suit of
black--the pantaloons tight at the calf and ankle, and there forming a
loose gaiter over thick shoes buckled high at the instep; an old cloak,
lined with red, was thrown over one shoulder, though the day was sultry; a
quaint, red, outlandish umbrella, with a carved brass handle, was thrust
under one arm, though the sky was cloudless; a profusion of raven hair, in
waving curls that seemed as fine as silk, escaped from the sides of a
straw-hat of prodigious brim; a complexion sallow and swarthy, and
features which, though not without considerable beauty to the eye of the
artist, were not only unlike what we fair, well-fed, neat-faced Englishmen
are wont to consider comely, but exceedingly like what we are disposed to
regard as awful and Satanic--to wit, a long hooked nose, sunken cheeks,
black eyes, whose piercing brilliancy took something wizard-like and
mystical from the large spectacles through which they shone; a mouth round
which played an ironical smile, and in which a physiognomist would have
remarked singular shrewdness and some closeness, complete the picture:
imagine this figure, grotesque, peregrinate, and to the eye of a peasant
certainly diabolical, then perch it on the stile in the midst of those
green English fields, and in sight of that primitive English village;
there let it sit straddling, its long legs dangling down, a short German
pipe emitting clouds from one corner of those sardonic lips, its dark eyes
glaring through the spectacles full upon the Parson, yet askant upon Lenny
Fairfield. Lenny Fairfield looked exceedingly frightened.

"Upon my word, Dr. Riccabocca," said Mr. Dale, smiling, "you come in good
time to solve a very nice question in casuistry;" and herewith the Parson
explained the case, and put the question--"Ought Lenny Fairfield to have