“Yes, thank you, excellent,” returned Peace. “You’ve got some fairish things here in the way of art,” he added, carelessly.
“Some on ’em are not bad—so I’ve been told. My poor father took great delight in picking up pictures and such like at sales. He was a better judge nor what I am.”
“Some of them are very good indeed, and some of them, of course, but indifferent. This one must always expect in a miscellaneous collection, but the frames are little the worse for wear.”
“I’ve bin goin’ to have ’em done up ever so many times, but, lord, it ed run into money, I fancy.”
“Not much,” returned his visitor, musingly; “not a great deal, I fancy. If I stop here for a while I’d give you an estimate.”
“And don’t you think of stopping?” enquired the landlord, who was much taken with our hero.
“Well, that depends upon what business I am likely to do in the neighbourhood. I shall be able to tell you more about it to-morrow or next day.”
“Good, I hope un ’ill be successful; we’ve got a goodish many well-to-do folks about here.”
A thin, short man, in a rusty suit of black, with dark rimmed spectacles, now ascended the stairs and entered the “club-room,” as it was termed.
This personage was the parish clerk.