"Last night," pursued the stranger in his gentle voice, "I sought to teach the Gospel of Mercy and Universal Forgiveness at a country fair not so very far from here, and they drove me away with sticks and stones; indeed, I fear our rustics are sometimes woefully ignorant, and Ignorance is always cruel. So, to-day, as soon as the stiffness is gone from me, I shall go back to them, sirs, for even Ignorance has ears."
Now whereupon, the Viscount got upon his legs, rather unsteadily, and bowed.
"Sir," said he, "I humbly ask your pardon; surely so brave an apostle should do great works."
"Then," said the stranger, drawing nearer, "if such is your thought, let me see you two clasp hands."
"But, sir," said the Viscount, somewhat taken aback, "indeed we have—scarcely begun—"
"So much the better," returned the teacher of forgiveness with his gentle smile, and laying a hand upon the arm of each.
"But, sir, I went so far as to give this gentleman the lie!" resumed the Viscount.
"Which I went so far as to—return," said Barnabas.
"But surely the matter can be explained?" inquired the stranger.
"Possibly!" nodded the Viscount, "though I generally leave explanations until afterwards."