e, are you, Bush!" he continued, with a frowning glance
levied in the direction of the always suspected but never proved
poacher,--"I wonder you're not in jail by this time!"

Bill Bush took up his pewter tankard, and affected to drain it to the
last dregs, but made no reply.

"Is that Mr. Dubble!" pursued the clergyman, shading his eyes with one
hand from the flickering light of the lamp, and feigning to be doubtful
of the actual personality of the individual he questioned. "Surely not!
I should be very much surprised and very sorry to see Mr. Dubble here at
such a late hour!"

"Would ye now!" said Dubble. "Wal, I'm allus glad to give ye both a
sorrer an' a surprise together, Mr. Arbroath--darned if I aint!"

"You must be keeping your good wife and daughter up waiting for you,"
proceeded Arbroath, his iron-grey eyebrows drawing together in an ugly
line over the bridge of his nose. "Late hours are a mistake, Dubble!"

"So they be, so they be, Mr. Arbroath!" agreed Dubble. "Ef I was oop
till midnight naggin' away at my good wife an' darter as they nags away
at me, I'd say my keepin' o' late 'ours was a dorned whoppin' mistake
an' no doubt o't. But seein' as 'taint arf-past ten yet, an' I aint
naggin' nobody nor interferin' with my neighbours nohow, I reckon I'm on
the right side o' the night so fur."

A murmur of approving laughter from all the men about him ratified this
speech. The Reverend Mr. Arbroath gave a gesture of disdain, and bent
his lowering looks on Tom o' the Gleam.

"Aren't you wanted by the police?" he suggested sarcastically.

The handsome gypsy glanced him over indifferently.

"I shouldn't wonder!" he retorted. "Perhaps the police want me as much
as the devil wants _you_!"

Arbroath flushed a dark red, and his lips tightened over his teeth
vindictively.

"There's a zummat for tha thinkin' on, Pazon Arbroath!" said "Feathery"
Joltram, suddenly rising from his chair and showing himself in all his
great height and burly build. "Zummat for a zermon on owd Nick, when
tha're wantin' to scare the zhoolboys o' Zundays!"

Mr. Arbroath's countenance changed from red to pale.

"I was not aware of your presence, Mr. Joltram," he said stiffly.

"Noa, noa, Pazon, m'appen not, but tha's aweer on it now. Nowt o' me's
zo zmall as can thraw to heaven through tha straight and narrer way. I'd
'ave to squeeze for 't!"

He laughed,--a big, slow laugh, husky with good living and good humour.
Arbroath shrugge