"Who, indeed, sir! What is your opinion of that alarming stench in old St. Dunstan's?"
"I am quite at a loss to make it out."
"And so am I, sir—so am I. But begging your pardon, sir, if I am not making too free, I thought as you were probably a clergyman, sir, you might have heard something more about it than we common folks."
"No—no. Not a word. But what you say of the church having a leaning to Temple Bar is grievous."
"Well, sir, if you were to go and look, you might find out that it was no such thing, and by the time you return I shall have completely finished off this gentleman."
"No—no. I make no sort of doubt in the world but that you would by that time have finished off the gentleman, but as for my going to look at the old church with any idea that it had a leaning to anything but itself, I can only say that my feelings as a man and a member of the glorious establishment will not permit me."
"But, my dear sir, you might satisfy yourself that such was really not the case."
"No—no. Imagination would make me think that the church had a leaning in all sorts of directions, until at last fancy might cheat me into a belief that it actually tottered."
The clerical-looking gentleman pronounced these words with so much feeling, that the person who was being shaved nearly got cut by twisting his head round in order to see him.
"True, sir," said Todd. "Very true—very true indeed, and very just; imagination does indeed play strange freaks with us at times, I well know."