“As you know, he is a cobbler. But I don’t suppose he gets much work. It is very inconvenient. Of course, we cannot send our repairs to him, and his being here prevents another setting up in the village.”
“It’s most inconsiderate of him,” said Beaumont, gravely. “He ought to be made to see that he is inconveniencing the servants of the Vicarage. No doubt, if he were told, he would go away, and make room for a better man. Then he doesn’t get much work?”
“Very little. He seems to spend most of his time, in the summer, in the fields; and I have heard he has a curious gift of taming birds and animals. I fancy he ekes out a scanty livelihood that way.”
“Perhaps he has taken to birds and animals because he can’t get men and women to have anything to do with him. A man must love something or other.”
“What! all men?”
“Yes, I suppose so—all men. Even lawyers.”
“I know one lawyer who is very fond of something.”
“And of someone?”
“I said something, sir!”
“And that is?”