“Uncommon nice gentleman that, sir, to be sure,” said he to his master, with whom he seldom missed the chance of a little conversation, if he could help it—and Bolton was generally good-natured enough to indulge him—“uncommon nice gentleman; what a thousand pities it is he should be a Methody!”
“A what!” inquired the curate, turning round upon him in ludicrous dismay.
“A Methody preacher, sir,” said Sam, boldly; for Harry’s countenance quite confirmed his suspicions. “Oh! I know all about it, sir; but it ain’t of no account with me, sir, you know, not none whatever,”—and he redoubled his negatives with a confidential mysteriousness which made Harry inclined to kick him. “I met Joe Haines, as drives the Regulator, this morning, and he asked me very particular about you, you see, sir, and how you got home o’ Saturday night; and then I told him as how this gentleman came with you; and when he heard as he’d been staying here all day yesterday, how he did laugh, to be sure; and then he told me——”
“I’ll tell you something, Sam, too. You had much better mind your own business, and not trouble yourself to talk to Joe Haines, or anybody else, about what goes on in my house.”
There was no mistaking the fact that his master was angry; and as such a thing had very seldom happened within Sam’s experience, it was a result of which he stood considerably in awe; and he hastened, with some confusion, to apologise, and to resume his praises of the “very nice gentleman, whatever he was,”—“And as you say, sir, that’s no business of mine: I’m sure I should be most happy to wait upon him at any time, sir——”
But Bolton had retired, and shut the door of his little sitting-room in an unmistakable manner. So Sam was obliged to soliloquise the rest of his apologies, which began to be very sincere, as he consoled himself by gazing at the two half-crowns which had come into his possession so easily. “Of course; if so be as he’s a gentleman, what matters? That’s what I say: that’s what I said to master: that’s what I said to Molly:—hallo! hey?—if this here half-crown ain’t a smasher!”
’Twas too true: it rung upon the flag-stone like an unadulterated piece of lead.
“What’s the matter now, Sam?” said Mrs Molly who heard the sound, and met his blank face in the passage.
“I told you what he was,” said Sam—“look here!” Molly examined the unfortunate coin with every wish to give it the benefit of a doubt, but was obliged finally to pronounce against it. She had to listen, also, to the story which Sam had heard from Joe Haines; and though she clung pertinaciously to her previously-formed conclusions in the strange favour, Sam had now decidedly the best of the argument, which he clinched at last with what he considered an unanswerable proposition—“If you says as he’s a parson and a gentleman, will you give me two-and-sixpence for this here half-crown?”