ent up with a creak, and a dark figure slipped into
the church.

"Who is there?" challenged Mr. Raymond from the chancel where he
stood peering out of the small circle of light.

"A friend. Pass, friend, and all's well!" answered a squeaky voice.
"Bless you, I've sarved in the militia before now."

It was Jacky Pascoe, with his coat-collar turned up high about his
ears.

"What do you want?" Mr. Raymond demanded sharply.

"A job."

"We can pay for no work here."

"Wait till thee'rt asked, Parson, dear. I've been spying in upon 'ee
these nights past. Pretty carpenters you be! T'other night, as I
was a-peeping, the Lord said to me, 'Arise, go, and for goodness'
sake show them chaps how to do it fitty.' 'Dear Lord,' I said,
'Thou knowest I be a Bryanite.' The Lord said to me, 'None of your
back answers! Go and do as I tell 'ee.' So here I be."

Mr. Raymond hesitated. "Squire Moyle is your friend, I hear, and the
friend of your chapel. What will he say if he discovers that you are
helping us?"

Jacky scratched his head. "I reckon the Lord must have thought o'
that, too. Suppose you put me to work in the vestry? There's only
one window looks in on the vestry: you can block that up with a
curtain, and there I'll be like a weevil in a biscuit."

When this screen was fixed, the little Bryanite looked round and
rubbed his hands. "Now I'll tell 'ee a prabble," he said--"a
prabble about this candle I'm holding. When God Almighty said
'_let there be light_,' He gave every man a candle--to some folks,
same as you, long sixes perhaps and best wax; to others, a farthing
dip. But they all helps to light up; and the beauty of it is,
Parson"--he laid a hand on Mr. Raymond's cuff--"there isn't one of
'em burns a ha'porth the worse for every candle that's lit from en.
Now sit down, you and the boy, and I'll larn 'ee how to join a board."

CHAPTER XIV.

VOICES FROM THE SEA.

Before winter and the long nights came around again, Taffy had become
quite a clever carpenter. From the first his quickness fairly
astonished the Bryanite, who at the best was but a journeyman and
soon owned himself beaten.

"I doubt," said he, "if you'll ever make so good a man as your
father; but you can't help making a better workman." He added, with
his eyes on the boy's face, "There's one thing in which you might
copy en. He hasn't much of a gift: _but he lays it 'pon the altar_."

By this time Taffy had resumed his les