Kate, laughing too, congratulated him on his knowledge of the tongue, and they set off in high good spirits. He did not leave her till they reached the top of the last rise that lay between themselves and Peewit House; and when they said good-bye, he had secured a half-promise that she would sit to him for her portrait. A surly-looking rascal, with a beard an inch long and a cutty pipe rammed tight in one corner of his mouth, was leaning over the fence; Lomax judged him to be a farm-hand, said his farewells to Kate, and set off back across the moor. "Well, I'm beggared!" muttered Joe Strangeways, removing the cutty pipe from his jaws. Griff went to look up his friend the preacher on the following afternoon. He found him in a state of wild self-castigation. Gabriel's eyes were far too bright, and his fingers twitched to the tune of each fresh thought. That marvellous straight-forwardness of his came to the front at once. "Well, Griff, lad, I was drunk the night before last." "Not quite that, old fellow; a bit bothered by the road, that's all; it's not an easy path through Hazel Dene." "I was drunk, I tell you. Yes, and I was mortal sick in the night, Griff. But it wasn't the sickness of the carnal body I cared for; the trouble went deeper than that." "Your head was bad the next morning?" queried Griff, innocently. "Man, yes! But it's not that I mean. Think of the sin: think of a preacher of God's word showing himself no more than a cutting from the old stock." This was Gabriel's unconquerable pride coming out; he was humble in theory only. "When you've understood that a little better," said the other gravely, "you'll be fit to preach. Good-bye, old chap; just ponder on that for a while. When are you coming for another ride?" The preacher looked through and beyond his friend. "I never thought to come to this. Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. Look here," he broke off, with a sudden flash of fury, "they say that the Lord looks after His own. Well, I don't believe it. Why did He bring that girl across my path?" "To make a man of you," said Griff, and vanished. Betty Binns was lying in wait for him without. A subdued exultation was visible in her face. "I war sure, Mr. Lummax," cried she--"I war sure ye didn't rightly know what war good for th' innards of a man o' God. Th' maister, yester-morn, war as yaller as hen-corn, an' his heäd warked fit to burst. _That's_ what comes along o' strong meät when th' Sperrit hes hold on a man." "Betty," said Griff, "you mustn't be hard on me. I meant it for the best." "Ay, ay, them as is for meaning th' best is allus for doing th' worst!" And Betty was retiring in triumph, when the other called her back. "Just tell your master, will you, that I shall be here at nine sharp to-morrow night, and shall expect him to be ready for a ride. You have no objection to offer, have you, Betty?" he added, with an air of humble deference.