"Ho, ho!" exclaimed Mr. Bloggs, for he knew very well that the boy was hiding his hunger.
"Do you call that a lie?" the Shepherd asked as soon as the minister had gone.
"A little one! But in my opinion it don't count," said Mr. Bloggs. "You were thinking of those who need food more than you and that turns it square around. I call it a golden lie—I do."
The minister had scarcely turned the corner of the street, when he met Hiram Blenkinsop, who was shivering along without an overcoat, the dog Christmas at his heels.
Mr. Singleton stopped him.
"Why, man! Haven't you an overcoat?" he asked.
"No, sir! It's hangin' on a peg in a pawn-shop over in Hazelmead. It ain't doin' the peg any good nor me neither!"
"Well, sir, you come with me," said the minister. "It's about dinner time, anyway, and I guess you need lining as well as covering."
The drunkard looked into the face of the minister.