"Gabriel Hirst," said he, "you've been preaching too much and eating too little. You're going to listen to me now, whether you like it or not. I take my painting about as seriously as you take your religion; I eat it, and live it, and breathe it every moment of my life." The preacher made a faint murmur of protest, but Griff's hand crushed it out of him, still-born. "Sometimes, old fellow, I paint too much, just as you have been preaching too much; and I _lose my faith in art_. I go about like a lunatic, and I think perdition has found me at last." "Perdition has never had far to seek for you, and more's the pity." Gabriel Hirst was beginning to tingle with fight again--which was just what the other wanted. "Not _my_ perdition; that only comes near when I've been playing the fool with myself. I try not to be a muff at these times, Hirst; I go out, and walk or ride, till I can do nothing but stumble into bed and sleep the clock round. I generally get up _healthy_." "You mean--you mean that I'm being a muff?" asked the preacher, in surprise. There was no resentment in his tones. "Yes; that's just about it. Have you to preach to-night?" "I have; though God knows I'm not fit to do it." "Then straight home you come with me. Mother will look to it that you don't feed off skim-milk and a crust of bread. You'll preach to-night, Hirst--better than ever you did in your life." Again the preacher tried to fight, but he was exhausted; he could only follow the lead of this overmastering pagan. Mrs. Lomax was sitting down to dinner when they came in. "I had given you up, Griff," she said. "You are never to be depended on when once you get to the moors, and I was too hungry to wait. Gabriel, I am glad to see you; what have you been doing to your face? It looks like an old man's." "He's been fasting, mother, and overworking himself. I put him in your hands; I don't think you will let him starve, much as he wants to." "No, I don't think I shall," responded the old lady, grimly. Gabriel Hirst's father and Griff's father had been close friends; dissimilarity of outlook upon every aspect of life had brought them together, just as it had brought the sons together. On both counts--the son's and the father's--Mrs. Lomax was warmly disposed towards Gabriel. So he sat down, and ate meekly, as he was bidden, of strong meat and apple-pie and cheese. He drank two glasses of good red port; fain would he have asserted himself on this matter, but Mrs. Lomax reminded him of Timothy, and he was altogether too bewildered to do battle on a point of Scripture.