"A peacock!" thought Felix. "I should like to come and scold her every day, and make her cry and cut her fine hair off."
Felix rose to go, and said, "I will not take up any more of your valuable time, Mr. Lyon. I know that you have not many spare evenings."
"That is true, my young friend; for I now go to Sproxton one evening in the week. I do not despair that we may some day need a chapel there, though the hearers do not multiply save among the women, and there is no work as yet begun among the miners themselves. I shall be glad of your company in my walk thither to-morrow at five o'clock, if you would like to see how that population has grown of late years."
"Oh, I've been to Sproxton already several times. I had a congregation of my own there last Sunday evening."
"What! do you preach?" said Mr. Lyon, with brightened glance.
"Not exactly. I went to the ale-house."
Mr. Lyon started. "I trust you are putting a riddle to me, young man, even as Samson did to his companions. From what you said but lately, it cannot be that you are given to tippling and to taverns."
"Oh, I don't drink much. I order a pint of beer, and I get into talk with the fellows over their pots and pipes. Somebody must take a little knowledge and common-sense to them in this way, else how are they to get it? I go for educating the non-electors, so I put myself in the way of my pupils—my academy is the beer-house. I'll walk with you to-morrow with pleasure."
"Do so, do so," said Mr. Lyon, shaking hands with his odd acquaintance. "We shall understand each other better by-and-by, I doubt not."
"I wish you good-evening, Miss Lyon."