He went back to his own room, and lay thinking it all over. No, he would endure it no longer; the fellow’s conceit, and his extravagant ways, were becoming a nuisance to the place. The priest was no respecter of persons; he wrote his epistles to one as to another, and made himself feared. If the congregation stumbled in their darkness, it was his business to bring light. He had not forgotten that business with Levion’s sister. She had not mended her ways, and the priest had been unable to retain her brother as lay-helper. Ill-fortune had come upon Levion; his wife had died. But the priest lost no time; he spoke to Levion at the funeral. It was an abominable business. Levion, simple soul, setting out to bury his helpmeet, recollected that he had promised to bring up a newly slaughtered calf to Frederik Mack at the factory. It was all on the way, and with the hot weather it would not do to leave the meat over-long. What more natural than that he should take the carcase with him? The priest learned the story from Enok, the humble person with the permanent earache. And he sent for Levion at once. “I cannot retain you as lay-helper,” he said. “Your sister is living a sinful life within your gates; your house is a house of ill-fame; you lie there fast asleep at night and let men come in.” “Ay, more’s the pity,” says Levion. “I’ll not deny it’s been that way more than once.” “And there’s another thing. You follow your wife to the grave, and drag a dead calf along after her. Now I ask you, is that right or decent?” But Levion, fisherman-peasant, found such niceties beyond him; he stared uncomprehendingly at the priest. His wife had always been a thrifty soul; she would have been the first to remind him herself to take the calf along if she could have spoken. “Seeing it’s up that way,” she would have said. “If as Pastor’s going to be so niggling particular,” said Levion, “you’ll never get a decent helper anywhere.” “That’s my business,” said the priest. “Anyhow, you are dismissed.” Levion looked down at his sou’wester. It was a blow to him and a disgrace; his neighbours would rejoice at his fall. But the priest had not finished yet. “For Heaven’s sake,” he said, “can’t you get that sister of yours married to the man?” “Do you think I haven’t tried?” said Levion. “But the worst of it is, she’s not quite sure which one it is.” The priest looked at him open-mouthed. “Not quite _what_ did you say?” And then at last, realising what it meant, he clasped his hands. “Well, well!... I must find another helper, that is all.” “Who’ll it be?” “That’s no concern of yours. As a matter of fact, I am taking Enok.” Levion stood thoughtful for quite a while. He knew this Enok, and had an old account to settle with him. “Enok, is it?” he said, and went out.