"And that's what life have taught you," murmured Billy. "And you thrive and keep pretty well on it. I've always heard you was a wonder, my dear, but how wonderful I never did guess. Now tell me, is Adam Winter, who be of the Chosen Few, in the right to forgive the man that did him so much harm, or in the wrong?"
They talked for an hour, then, weary and conscious that Mrs. Huxam was not made of material familiar to him, William rose and went his way.
"No offence given where none is taken, I hope. I'm sorry you can't see it might be a vitty thing for husband and wife to come together in fulness of time; because if you can't see it, it won't happen perhaps. But turn over the thought, like the good woman you are, and if the Lord should say that mercy ain't beyond human power, after all—well, listen."
"You needn't tell me to listen, Mr. Marydrew. I'm sorry for your blindness and I'm sorry for your deafness, but I see clear and I hear clear still."
"Good day then. No doubt it takes all sorts to make a world."
"Yes," answered she, "but only one sort to make a heaven."
He laughed genially.
"Then I hope they won't knock the bottom out of hell, after all, else where should us of the common staple go? Must spend eternity somewhere."
"Scratch a sinner and the devil always peeps out," thought Mrs. Huxam as William departed.