“Tell you what,” said the young man, growing sociable in spite of himself; “yow get leave and I’ll show you all about the works. No I wean’t, though,” he exclaimed, abruptly. “Cuss the works, I’ll never go there no more.”
The new vicar looked at him, tightening his lips a little.
“Another sore place, eh?” he said to himself, and turned the conversation once more.
“What sort of people are you at Dumford, my lad?”
“Hey? what sort o’ people? Why, men and women and bairns, of course. What did you expect they weer?”
“I mean as to conduct,” said the vicar, laughing. “What will they say to me, for instance?”
The young man’s face grew less cloudy for a few moments, a broad, hearty, honest grin extending it so that he looked a frank, even handsome young fellow.
“They’ll make it a bit warm for you, parson,” he said at last.
“Eh? will they?” said the vicar, smiling. “Rough as you were, eh?”
“Oh no,” said the other, quickly. “Don’t you take no notice o’ that. I ain’t always that how. I was a bit popped this morning.”