It so happened that the tanner’s group and the lady’s group were ranked side by side. The latter was Mrs. Aspinall, the wife of a wealthy cotton merchant, who, with two other gentlemen and a lady, stood behind her, and this time gave her their much-needed support. Indeed, what with the damp and chillness of the church, and the agitation, the delicate lady appeared ready to faint. “Hath this child been already baptised or no?” asked Joshua Brookes, and was passing on, when Simon’s unexpected response arrested him. “Aw dunnot know.” “Don’t know? How’s that? What are you here for?” were questions huddled one on the other, in a broader vernacular than I have thought well to put in the mouth of a man so deeply learned. “Whoi, yo’ see, this is the choilt as wur weshed deawn th’ river wi’ th’ flood in a kayther; an’ o’ belungin’ th’ lad are deead, an’ aw mun kirsen him to mak’ o’ sure.” Joshua listened with more patience than might have been expected from him, and passed on with a mere “Humph!” to ask the same question from each in succession, before proceeding with the general service. At length he came to the naming of several infants. “Henrietta Burdelia Fitzbourne,” was given as the proposed name of a girl of middle-class parents. “_Mary_, I baptise thee,” &c., he calmly proceeded, handed the baby back to the astonished godmother, and passed to the next, regardless of appeal. Mrs. Aspinall’s boy took his name of Laurence with a noisy protest against the sprinkling. Nor was the foundling silent when, having been duly informed that the boy’s name was to be “_Irk_,” self-willed Joshua deliberately, and with scarcely a visible pause, went on— “_Jabez_, I baptise thee in the name,” &c., and so overturned at one fell swoop, all Simon’s carefully-constructed castle. Simon attempted to remonstrate, but Joshua Brookes had another infant in his arms, and was deaf to all but his own business. Such a substitution of names was too common a practice of his to disturb him in the least. But Simon had a brave spirit, and stood no more in awe of Joshua Brookes—“Jotty” as he was called—than of another man. When the others had gone in a crowd to the vestry to register the baptisms, he stopped to confront the parson as he left the altar. “What roight had yo’ to change the neame aw chuse to gi’e that choilt?” “What right had yo’ to saddle the poor lad with an _Irksome_ name like that?” was the quick rejoinder. “Roight! why, aw wanted to gi’e th’ lad a neame as should mak’ him thankful fur bein’ saved from dreawndin’ to the last deays o’ his loife.” “An _Irksome_ name like that would have made him the butt of every little imp in the gutters, until he’d have been ready to drown himself to get rid of it. Jabez is an honourable name, man. You go home, and look through your Bible till you find it.” Simon was open to conviction; his bright eyes twinkled as a new light dawned upon them.