I
"That is the first part of the story, and the least," said the Parson.
"And while I'm telling you the rest you'd better have some grub."
He reached up to a rafter.
"I keep the tackle up here out of Blob's way. The boy's all belly— ain't you, you young shark?"
Blob stroked his waist feelingly.
"She kips on a-talkin," he purred. "She dawn't get much answer though."
"Well, don't eat that candle anyway, you little glutton!"
"Oi warn't eatin it," said Blob, aggrieved. "Oi were suckin it."
The Parson arranged what food there was on the floor.
'"Honour and salt-beef—campaigners' fare!' as Nelson used to say in
Corsica….
"And while you're at that, I'll get on with my story."