Skipper Tommy Lovejoy was preaching what the doctor called in his genial way “The Gospel According to Tommy.”
“Sure, now, Tom Tot,” said he, “the Lard is a Skipper o’ wonderful civil disposition. ‘Skipper Tommy,’ says He t’ me, ‘an you only does the best——’”
“You’re too free with the name o’ the Lard.”
Skipper Tommy looked up in unfeigned surprise. “Oh, no, Tom,” said he, mildly, “I isn’t. The Lard an’ me is——-”
“You’re too free,” Tom Tot persisted. “Leave Un be or you’ll rue it.”
“Oh, no, Tom,” said the skipper. “The Lard an’ me gets along wonderful well together. We’re wonderful good friends. I isn’t scared o’ He!”
As we walked home, that night, the doctor told my sister and me that, whatever the greater world might think of the sin at Wayfarer’s Tickle, whether innocuous or virulent, Jagger was beyond cavil flagrantly corrupting our poor folk, who were simple-hearted and easy to persuade: that he was, indeed, a nuisance which must be abated, come what would.