"Humphrey Baskerville is—and so's his son."
"Is that young Mark Baskerville?"
"Yes—tenor bell among the ringers. A very uneven-minded man. He's a wonderful ringer and wrapped up in tenor bell, as if 'twas a heathen idol. In fact, he'm not the good Christian he might be, and he'll ring oftener than he'll pray. Then Saul Luscombe to Trowlesworthy Warren—farmer and rabbit-catcher—be a very hard nut, and so's his man, Jack Head. You won't get either of them inside the church. They say in their wicked way they ain't got no need for sleeping after breakfast of a Sunday—atheists, in fact. The other labouring man from Trowlesworthy is a good Christian, however. He can read, but 'tis doubtful whether he can write."
"You'll have to go to keep your appointment, Dennis," remarked his sister.
"Plenty of time. Is there anything more that's particularly important, Gollop?"
"Lots more. Still, if I'm to be shouted down every minute—— I comed to encourage and fortify you. I comed to tell you to have no fear, because me and sister was on your side, and always ready to fight to the death for righteousness. But you've took the wind out of our sails, in a manner of speaking. If you ban't going to walk in the old paths, I'm terrible afraid you'll find us against you."
"This is impertinence," said Miss Masterman.
"Not at all," answered the clerk's sister. "It's sense. 'Tis a free country, and if you'm going to set a lot of God-fearing, right-minded, sensible people by the ears, the sin be on your shoulders. You'd best to come home, Thomas."
Mr. Masterman looked helplessly at his watch.
"We shall soon arrive at—at—a modus vivendi," he said.