"Good evening, Petherick," said Mr. Amyatt briskly, his keen eyes noticing that, though Josiah had doubtless been drinking, he was very far from being intoxicated at present; "you perceive I've been robbing your garden," and he held up the carnation blooms.
"'Tis my little maid's garden, sir," was the response, "an' I know well you're welcome to take what flowers you please. What a hot day it's been, to be sure!"
"Yes; but pleasanter out of doors than in the bar of the 'Crab and Cockle,' I expect," Mr. Amyatt answered meaningly.
"'Tis thirsty weather," Josiah said with a smile; "don't you find it so, sir?"
"Yes, indeed I do! But I don't take beer to quench my thirst. Beer's heating, and makes you hotter and thirstier, too. If you were a teetotaler like me, you wouldn't feel the heat quite so much."
"That's as it may be, sir. I can't argue the point; but I hold that a glass of good, sound beer don't hurt anyone."
Salome had retired into the cottage, remarking which fact, the Vicar seized the opportunity and spoke plainly.
"Look here, Petherick," he said, "if you'd lived my life, you'd be a teetotaler like me—at least, I hope you would. The big town in which I worked so long owed most of its vice and misery to drink. I was in daily contact there with men and women lower than brute beasts on account of the drink you uphold—men and women who would sell their own and their children's clothes, and allow their offspring to go hungry and almost naked, that they might obtain the vile poison for which they were bartering their immortal souls. I made up my mind there, that drink was our nation's greatest curse; and here, in this quiet village, I see no reason to make me change my opinion, and allow that a glass of 'good, sound beer,' as you call your favourite beverage, doesn't hurt anyone. Your one glass leads to more, and the result? You become unlike yourself, rough and threatening in your manner, unkind to your little daughter whom I am certain you dearly love, and whose chief aim in life is to make your home a happy one. I wish you would make up your mind, Petherick, never to enter the doors of the 'Crab and Cockle' again."
"Why, sir, to hear you talk one would think I was drunk," Josiah cried, aggrievedly.
"You are not that at this minute, I admit, but you have been drinking; and if you don't pull up in time, and turn over a new leaf, you'll go from bad to worse. Now, I've had my say, and have finished. Your supper's waiting, I know, so I'll bid you good evening."