"Late it is, master, as you say.—I'll take a seat in the chimney-corner, if you have nothing to urge against it, ma'am; for I am a little moist on the side that was next the rain."
Mrs. Shepherd Fennel assented, and made room for the self-invited comer, who, having got completely inside the chimney-corner, stretched out his legs and his arms with the expansiveness of a person quite at home.
"Yes, I am rather thin in the vamp," he said freely, seeing that the eyes of Shepherd's wife fell upon his boots, "and I am not well-fitted, either. I have had some rough times lately, and have been forced to pick up what I can get in the way of wearing, but I must find a suit better fit for working-days when I reach home."
"One of hereabouts?" she inquired.
"Not quite that—further up the country."
"I thought so. And so am I; and by your tongue you come from my neighbourhood."
"But you would hardly have heard of me," he said quickly. "My time would be long before yours, ma'am, you see."
This testimony to the youthfulness of his hostess had the effect of stopping her cross-examination.
"There is only one thing more wanted to make me happy," continued the newcomer. "And that is a little baccy, which I am sorry to say I am out of."
"I'll fill your pipe," said the shepherd.