Van Noost nodded his head and entered the house, followed by Smeaton. The maid shut and bolted the door again, and then led them on into the parson's little parlour, where they found that reverend personage enjoying himself according to his evening wont. There was one lighted candle on the table; but the room, though small, was obscure; for a thick cloud of tobacco-smoke floated in it. On the hob of the vacant grate lay the pipe from which that smoke had proceeded; and close at the parson's elbow was a tall bottle containing some sort of spirits, a plate and knife, with a lemon, and a pot of sugar. Between him and the candlestick, however, was an open Greek book in old and tattered binding; for Parson Thickett was an erudite man, notwithstanding some little failings. In person, he was fatter than Van Noost, and of a very different sort of fatness. His limbs were large, but seemed almost disjointed, or at best held loosely together by the lax integuments that covered them. His stomach was large and prominent, betraying beneath his cassock--for he was generally in canonicals--a vast hemisphere of black. His face was somewhat coarse, it must be acknowledged. He had a large ear and a large lip, and, not contented with a large chin, he had two of them. There was a good deal of shrewdness, however, and a certain portion of fun about his grey watery eye; and his whole face lighted up with jovial good humour as soon as he saw the statuary. "Ha, my worthy friend!" he cried, starting up with greater agility than might have been expected, and grasping Van Noost's hand warmly. "Where have you been so long? I thought the Philistines were upon you, by Jove. What of the brasses? What of the monuments? What of the inscriptions? By Jove, I thought you had left your work half done; and it might have remained long enough undone for me; for scrubbing brass and marble is no part of my calling. I love my flock well enough; but, when once I've got them under ground, I've done with them.--Ha! who is this gentleman?" "A friend of mine," replied Van Noost, "who has come to talk to your reverence about a little business." "He is welcome," cried the jolly parson. "Sir, you are welcome. We will talk of business presently. Now, we'll have a bowl of punch, and fresh pipes.--Betty, Betty!" Smeaton tried to persuade him that he was in haste, and could not stay; but Parson Thickett would take no denial. "I will have my way," he cried, laughing. "I will have my way, by Jove, for this time. You shall have your way the next time, upon my sacred word of honour." "Indeed?" said Smeaton. "Of a verity," returned the parson, "unless you ask me for the tithe pig that was brought in this morning. That is a reservation." The glasses and pipes were brought in, fresh hot water procured, and the brewing commenced; but, as soon as the door was shut, Smeaton thought he might as well begin upon the subject of his visit.