‘That’s true—nobody will know it. Still, honesty’s the best policy.’
‘Ah—it is certainly. But, thank God, I’ve been able to get on without it yet. You’ll surely drink with me?’
‘Really, ‘tis a’most too early for that sort o’ thing—however, to oblige a friend, I don’t object to the faintest shadder of a drop.’ The postman drank, and Manston did the same to a very slight degree. Five minutes later, when they came to a gate, the flask was pulled out again.
‘Well done!’ said the postman, beginning to feel its effect; ‘but guide my soul, I be afraid ‘twill hardly do!’
‘Not unless ‘tis well followed, like any other line you take up,’ said Manston. ‘Besides, there’s a way of liking a drop of liquor, and of being good—even religious—at the same time.’
‘Ay, for some thimble-and-button in-an-out fellers; but I could never get into the knack o’ it; not I.’
‘Well, you needn’t be troubled; it isn’t necessary for the higher class of mind to be religious—they have so much common-sense that they can risk playing with fire.’
‘That hits me exactly.’
‘In fact, a man I know, who always had no other god but “Me;” and devoutly loved his neighbour’s wife, says now that believing is a mistake.’
‘Well, to be sure! However, believing in God is a mistake made by very few people, after all.’