"Yes, she was there, safe enough, second time of going.—God forgive me!" muttered he, "who'd ha' thought of my turning out such an arrant liar in my old days?"
"Bless the wench! Is she here? Why does she not come to bed? I'm sure she's need."
Job coughed away his remains of conscience, and made answer,
"She was a bit weary, and o'er done with her sail; and Mrs. Jones axed her to stay there all night. It was nigh at hand to the courts, where she will have to be in the morning."
"It comes easy enough after a while," groaned out Job. "The father of lies helps one, I suppose, for now my speech comes as natural as truth. She's done questioning now, that's one good thing. I'll be off before Satan and she are at me again."
He went to the house-place, where the landlady stood wearily waiting. Her husband was in bed, and asleep long ago.
But Job had not yet made up his mind what to do. He could not go to sleep, with all his anxieties, if he were put into the best bed in Liverpool.
"Thou'lt let me sit up in this arm-chair," said he at length to the woman, who stood, expecting his departure.
He was an old friend, so she let him do as he wished. But, indeed, she was too sleepy to have opposed him. She was too glad to be released and go to bed.