“He went out before six to the church, and he has not been back,” cried Patty, in agitated tones. “They were going now to search for him. Here—here he is!” she cried, as Jared made his appearance, pale and scared-looking, while Patty flung her arms round his neck.
“There, there, there! shut the door,” cried Timson, hastily; “it’s all right, it’s all right! And now, what do you want here, you sir? You’re one of the bell-ringers, ain’t you?”
“Right you are, sir,” said Beaky Jem, staring with all his eyes.
“Just so—just so. And now you’re not wanted, are you? No one wants you—eh? There then, take that, and be off.”
Mr Chawner took “that,” and went off—“that” wearing very much the appearance of a warm half-crown from Mr Timson’s pocket.
But before Mr Chawner was outside the door, he was muttering, “I knowed he was a bit on; but there was a sight o’ beer up our way to-night, sewerly.”
“We should have been here hours ago,” said the vicar, “but the train was stopped by the snow.”
“And he wouldn’t have come on till the morning, if it hadn’t been for me,” broke in Mr Timson.
“Let me speak, Timson—let me speak,” exclaimed the vicar.
“I won’t, I’m—blessed if I do,” exclaimed Timson, excitedly, altering the run of his sentence. “It was my doing, and Purkis’s here; and you know I made you come on to-night.”