“Well speak out quick, for the night is chill.”
“I will, parson. It’s like this: I love pretty Mistress Janet at the Pool.”
“For a grandchild, Wat Kilby?”
“Nay, master; for a wife. I wanted to get speech of her, but could not get me near. Tell her, and keep thy eye on her as well, that Wat Kilby han’t forgot, and will come back and wed her.”
“Well man, well?”
“And I ask thee, parson, not to wed her to any other man.”
“But man, how can I help—”
“Why, forbid it all, and I’ll sattle down to be a better man and come to church when I be not at sea. Sometimes I’ll come and sit in the porch o’ Sunday afternoons. And now I must hasten to catch the skipper. Tell her from me, parson, Wat Kilby will come and make her an honest woman, and be true; and now good night.”
“Here, stop, you vile old sinner!” cried Master Peasegood, but he only heard old Wat Kilby striding rapidly away, and after listening for a few moments he closed the lattice with a slam.
“The place gets worse the more I preach,” he cried, angrily. “Master and man. A nice charge, verily—but Wat and that Janet! My preaching must be stronger, yet. That wicked wench!”