with the
people at a farm. But they wouldn't promise me nothing certain for my old
age, so I left them and padded the country a bit. And I liked tramping,
owing to the variety. And I found I could sing well enough to get a bed
and supper most times; and for three years I kept at it and saw my native
country: towns in winter it was, and villages in summer. I was on my way
to Plymouth when I dropped into Holne, and Mr. Churchward offered me a bob
if I'd travel to Little Sherberton. And when I arrived there, and saw how
it was, I made up my mind that it would serve my turn very nice. Then I
set out to satisfy your sister and please her every way I could, because
I'm too old now for the road, and would sooner ride than walk, and sooner
sleep in a bed than under a haystack."

"You fell into a proper soft thing," I said; but he wouldn't allow that.

"No," he answered. "'Tis a good billet; but nothing to make a fuss about.
Of course for ninety-nine men out of a hundred, it would be a godsend and
above their highest hopes or deserts; but I'm the hundredth man--a man of
very rare gifts and understanding, and full of accomplishments gathered
from the ends of the world. I'm not saying it ain't a good home and a
happy one; but I'm free to tell you that the luck ain't all on one side;
and for your sister to fall in with me in her declining years was a very
fortunate thing for her; and I don't think that Miss Blake would deny it
if you was to ask her."

"In fact you reckon yourself a proper angel in the house," I said in my
comical tone of voice. But he didn't see nothing very funny in that.

"So I do," he said. "It was always my intention to settle down and be
somebody's right hand man some day; and if it hadn't been your sister, it
would have been some other body. I'm built like that," he added. "I never
did much good for myself, owing to my inquiring mind and great interest in
other people; but I've done good for others more than once, and shall
again."

"And what about the church-going?" I asked him. "Is that all 'my eye and
Betty Martin,' or do you go because you like going?"

"'Tis a good thing for the women to go to church," he answered, "and your
sister is all the better for it, and has often thanked me for putting her
in the way."

"'Twas more than I could do, though I've often been at her," I told the
man, admiring his determined character.

And then came the beginning of the real fun, when Mary turned up at
Brownb