ay, 'tis old Arbroath zartin zure!" responded "Feathery" Joltram
placidly. "Let 'un coom in! Let 'un coom in!"

Tom o' the Gleam gave vent to a loud laugh, and throwing himself back in
his chair, crossed his long legs and administered a ferocious twirl to
his moustache, humming carelessly under his breath:--

"'And they called the parson to marry them,
But devil a bit would he--
For they were but a pair of dandy prats
As couldn't pay devil's fee!'"

Helmsley's curiosity was excited. There was a marked stir of expectation
among the guests of the "Trusty Man"; they all appeared to be waiting
for something about to happen of exceptional interest. He glanced
inquiringly at Peke, who returned the glance by one of warning.

"Best sit quiet a while longer," he said. "They won't break up till
closin' hour, an' m'appen there'll be a bit o' fun."

"Ay, sit quiet!" said Tom o' the Gleam, catching these words, and
turning towards Helmsley with a smile--"There's more than enough time
for tramping. Come! Show me if you can smoke _that_!" "That" was a
choice Havana cigar which he took out of the pocket of his crimson wool
waistcoat. "You've smoked one before now, I'll warrant!"

Helmsley met his flashing eyes without wavering.

"I will not say I have not," he answered quietly, accepting and lighting
the fragrant weed, "but it was long ago!"

"Ay, away in the Long, long ago!" said Tom, still regarding him fixedly,
but kindly--"where we have all buried such a number of beautiful
things,--loves and hopes and beliefs, and dreams and fortunes!--all, all
tucked away under the graveyard grass of the Long Ago!"

Here Miss Tranter's voice was heard again outside, saying acidly:--

"It's clear out and lock up at half-past ten, business or no business,
duty or no duty. Please remember that!"

"'Ware, mates!" exclaimed Tom,--"Here comes our reverend!"

The door was pushed open as he spoke, and a short, dark man in clerical
costume walked in with a would-be imposing air of dignity.

"Good-evening, my friends!" he said, without lifting his hat.

There was no response.

He smiled sourly, and surveyed the assembled company with a curious air
of mingled authority and contempt. He looked more like a petty officer
of dragoons than a minister of the Christian religion,--one of those
exacting small military martinets accustomed to brow-beating and
bullying every subordinate without reason or justice.

"So you're ther