“I’m a poor one to ask for advice just now, Maine,” said the vicar, sadly; “but I’ll do my best for you.”
“Thanky, sir; I thought you would.”
“So you meant to give me some news?” continued the vicar, dryly.
“Yes, sir,” said John Maine, “if you call it news,” and he spoke bitterly.
“Well, no,” said the vicar, making an effort to forget self; “I don’t call it news. I knew all this some time ago.”
“You knew it, sir?”
“Why, my good fellow, yes. Some weeks back, about as dirty an old cadger as it has ever been my fate to encounter, pointed you out to me on the road, and told me the greatest part of your history.”
“He did, sir?”
“Oh, yes, poor old fellow,” said the vicar, bitterly, “I suppose he felt as if he could not die comfortably without doing somebody else an ill turn.”
“Die, sir?”