Before Jarvis had time to make any reply, the blind man, mentioned in a former chapter, struck in, with the tone of one who had been watching his opportunity.
"I make more o' that pint than the t'other," he said. "A man as is a duffer may well make a mull of a thing; but a man as knows what he's up to can't. I don't make much o' them miracles, you know, grannie—that is, I don't know, and what I don't know, I won't say as I knows; but what I'm sure of is this here one thing,—that man or boy as could work a miracle, you know, grannie, wouldn't work no miracle as there wasn't no good working of."
"It was to help his father," suggested Marion.
Here Jarvis broke in almost with scorn.
"To help him to pass for a clever fellow, when he was as great a duffer as ever broke bread!"
"I'm quite o' your opinion, Mr. Jarvis," said the blind man. "It 'ud ha' been more like him to tell his father what a duffer he was, and send him home to learn his trade."
"He couldn't do that, you know," said Marion gently. "He couldn't use such words to his father, if he were ever so stupid."
"His step-father, grannie," suggested the woman who had corrected Jarvis on the same point. She spoke very modestly, but was clearly bent on holding forth what light she had.
"Certainly, Mrs. Renton; but you know he couldn't be rude to any one,—leaving his own mother's husband out of the question."
"True for you, grannie," returned the woman.