“Ay, that may be,” said the smith. “We all know Jake. He never wronged his fellow--nay, there's some of us knows that if the worst came to the worst with us, Jake 'ud be the first to hold out a helping hand, with a guinea or two in it, as the case may be. Still there may be something in what he said about being brought to feel himself a miserable sinner.” “He allowed that the preacher on'y kept him in that suspensory way o' thought for a brief space,” said the miller. “Ay, there's men that be mortal sinners, and for all that their luck is tremendous and saves 'em from the eye of their fellow-men,” said the smith. “I feel bound to say this to the credit o' parson,” remarked the water-finder with deprecatory suavity: “he never makes a simple countryman feel himself to be a miserable sinner. He is of such a good nature that he slurs over the General Confession so genteelly that I defy the wickedest of his churchful to feel in any ways as if parson was dictating the words to him.” “That shows that parson's heart be in the right place,” nodded the farmer. “He gives us all to understand at a glance that he reads the words 'cause they are set down for him in the solemn prayer book, and hopes that there's none among his hearers who will hold him responsible as a man for their ungentility.” “True, sir, true; parson's an am'able gentleman, always 'cepting when the cock he has hatched from the noblest game strain fails him in the first main,” said the blacksmith. “And who is he that would be different, tell me that?” cried the miller, who had fought a few cocks in the course of his life. “Ay, we be well content wi' parson, we be so; but I don't say that if Jake's Bristol preacher came within earshot I would refuse to listen to him--only out o' curiosity--only out o' curiosity. But I do wonder much that a man o' the steadiness o' Jake Pullsford owning himself overcome by a parson that has no church of his own.” “'Tis as humble as allowing a toothache to be cured by a quack at a fair, when a wholesome Doctor of Physic, like Mr. Corballis, has wrestled, with it for a whole week,” said the water-finder. “I hope I haven't offended any friend by my homeliness when the talk was serious,” he added, glancing around, not without apprehension. No one took the trouble to say a word that might place him at his ease. The farmer took a hasty drink out of his mug, and sighed after. The blacksmith cut up some tobacco and rolled it between his palms. There was a long silence in the room. It seemed as if the weakness which Jake, the carrier, had displayed had saddened the little company. It was pretty clear that they were all thinking of it.