next?' 'Back to Newport,' says he. 'That'll suit me,' I says,
an' persuaded en to take me. But the Lord knew where she were bound
better'n the skipper; and here I be!"

It seemed to his hearers that this man took little thought of his
drowned shipmates. Mr. Raymond looked up as he strapped his books
together.

"You were not the only man in that schooner," he said, rather
severely.

"Glory be! Who be I, to question the Lord's ways? One day I picked
up a map, an' seed a place on it called 'Little Sins.' 'Little Sins
wants great Deliverance,' says I, an' I started clane off an' walked
to the place, though I'd never so much as heard of it till then.
'Twas harvest-time there, an' I danced into the field, shouting
'Glory, glory. The harvest is plenty, but the labourers be few!'
The farmer was moved to give me a job 'pon the spot. I bided there
two year, an' built them a chapel an' preached the Word in it.
They offered me money to stop an' preach; and I laid it before the
Lord. But He said, 'You're the King's Postman. Keep moving, keep on
moving! 'I've built two more chapels since then."

Late that afternoon three bodies were recovered from the sea--the
captain, the mate, and a boy of about sixteen; and were buried in the
churchyard next day, as soon as the inquest was over. Pascoe
followed the coffins, and pointed the service at the grave-side with
interjaculations of his own. "Glory be!" "A-men!" "Hallelujah!"
"Great Redemption!" To the Vicar's surprise the small crowd after a
minute began to follow the man's lead, until at length he could
scarcely read for these interruptions.

At supper that night Pascoe sprang a question on the Vicar.

"Be you convarted?" he asked, looking up with his mouth full of bread
and cheese.

"I hope so."

"Aw, you _hopes!_ 'Tis a bad case with 'ee, then. When a man's
convarted, he _knows_. Seemin' to me, you baint. You don't show
enough of the bright side. Now, as I go along, my very toes keep
ticking salvation. Down goes one foot, 'Glory be!' Down goes the
other, 'A-men!' Aw! I must dance for joy!"

He got up and danced around the kitchen.

"I wish the man would go," Humility thought to herself.

His very next words answered her wish. "I'll be leavin' to-morrow,
friends. I've got a room down to the village, an' I've borreyed a
razor. I'm goin' to tramp round the mines at the back here, an'
shave the miners at a ha'penny a chin. That'll pay my way. The