"I takes volks as I finds 'em," replied the Dumpy Philosopher.
"I wouldn't like to say parson goes shares wi' the Brocks in everything—in every single thing," observed the Dismal Gibcat, as the deputation retired, "but I shouldn't be surprised if a lot o' volk didn't think so."
During this excitement Percy and his young lady arrived, two days before they were expected, and flustered Kezia so that she could think of the robbery only at intervals. Bessie made no mention of it: neither did Robert, though he went to the village shop, purchased a pound of candles, and tried unsuccessfully to buy a bottle of lubricating oil. As it was impossible in Highfield to enter into secret negotiations for the purchase of even a penny tin of mustard, the policeman, in the course of his inquiries, heard about it and, having worked out the problem without the aid of pencil and notebook, he proceeded to the bakery and told Robert he ought to be ashamed of himself.
"For why?" asked the assistant baker, with the assurance of a man who had nine points of the law in his favour.
"What did you buy this morning at Mrs. Trivell's shop?"
"Bottle o' blacking," replied Robert.
"Sure it wasn't whitewash? What else did you buy?"
"Penn'orth o' blacklead," said Robert cheerfully.
"Making the case pretty black, ain't you? You didn't buy a pound of candles, of course—best wax candles. But, if you did buy candles, what were you going to do with them?"
"I don't know what you can do wi' candles except light them," said Robert.