"Good thing to do," said Timson, "but better let him have it in tea. Say an annuity of so many pounds of tea per annum--mixed--for so many years." "Oh, no, Timson; it must be the money. The poor fellow was oppressed by poverty when he--er--er--took the money." "Then why didn't he come like a man and ask me to advance him a few pounds, or let them have so much tea on credit?" "The wrong sort of man, Timson--the wrong sort of man! But I'm sorry for him, very." "So am I--so will everybody be," said Timson, gruffly; and then they had another long smoke. "You won't tell him at the very last that he may stop on, I 'spose?" said Timson,--"let him think, like, that he's going to be hanged, and then at the last moment send him a reprieve? My wig, sir, what a voluntary we should have the next Sunday!" "No, Timson, no. Duty is duty, and I should not be doing mine if I looked over so flagrant an offence." "But you won't alter your mind?--you won't prosecute?" "No, sir, no," said the vicar. "In spite of all, I respect the man and the way in which he has brought up his family. I am sorry, deeply sorry, for Mr Pellet and his wife and daughter; and really, sir, I'd give a heavy sum to have proved him innocent--I would, indeed;" and to give emphasis to his assertion, the old gentleman brought his fist down heavily upon the table. "Mind the glasses!" said the churchwarden, in a warning voice, and he pushed them a little farther from his friend. "It's very sad, and with such a family, too!" said the vicar. "How many has he?" "Scores!" said the churchwarden. "Don't be absurd, Timson--don't be a fool," said the vicar; "this is no laughing matter. Suppose that you were in the poor man's position?" "Shoo--shoo--shoo--shoo!" exclaimed Mr Timson. "What do you mean? who is absurd--who is a fool? I'm not one, am I? And what's the good of supposing me the thief? Absurd, indeed!" "I only said don't be absurd, don't be a fool, Timson," said the vicar. "I believe that's prevaricating," said Mr Timson. "I consider `fool' a strange title to call an old friend, Mr Gray." "Sit still, Timson, and shake hands, and don't be an ass," said the old gentleman, warmly; and as he spoke he held out his hand, with the accompaniment of a look that wiped away the epithet that had escaped inadvertently during his excitement; for the churchwarden shook the hand as warmly as it was offered. "But," said Timson, just to show that it still rankled a little, "it seems too bad to pity the poor man now, when a little assistance would have kept him from what _you_ say he has done." "What _we_; say he has done," replied the vicar; "for look at the proofs. Have I not my duty to perform as well as any other man?" "But it does seem a very hard case," said Timson, "and I should let him off. I've none of your fine susceptibilities; they don't seem to go with tea-dealing."