"He will be if he don't look out, for Tom Podmore says he's sure he had a hand in getting away Daisy Banks," said another; "and Joe Banks is sure of it. I wouldn't be surprised if he hung him." "Don't you be so nation fast," said Sim, changing colour a little, but laughing it off the next moment. "Iv I were a owry chap like thee, Sam'l Benson, I'd wesh mesen afore I took to talking about other folk. It was Sam'l, you know," continued Sim, to the others, "that owd parson spoke to when he weer a boy. `When did thee wesh thee hands last, Sam?' he says, pointing at 'em wi' his stick. `When we'd done picking tates,' says Sam, He, he, he! and that was three months before, and parson give 'im a penny to ware in soap." There was a hearty laugh at this, in which the man of whom the story was told joined. "Strange different sort o' man this one to the last parson," said the grocer. "Ay, he is. Do you mind owd parson's dunk pigs?" said Johnson, the butcher. "To be sure," said the landlord, rapping his pipe. "I've got four of the same breed now." "He used to come and see you pretty oftens, didn't he?" said the grocer. "Oh, yes; he'd come toddling up on the saints' days to Mrs Winny's there, and sit for a bit, and then come across here, and sit and wait, and have a gill o' ale, and then if there was anybody coming up to church, Jacky Budd--Jacky Budd's father, you know--would come and fetch him, and if there was nobody coming Jacky used to lock the church doors again and go back home." "He was a rum one, he was. Fond of his garden, too." "Well, so's this un," said the landlord. "He's getten it to raights now." "Course he has," said Slee. "Getten it done for nowt, wi' Tom Podmore and big Harry, and iver so many more wucking for him." "You let th' parson alone, Sim," said the landlord, who was a bit of an autocrat in his own parlour, "and he'll let thee alone." "I should hope he would. He's fun me a hot one a'ready," said Sim. "He's a good sort, is parson," said Johnson, the butcher; "and it's how do, and shake hands, as friendly with ye, as if you was the best in the land." "Yes," said the grocer; "and he don't come begging and borrowing always." "Begging, no," said Johnson, chuckling. "Why, he's paid me thutty pounds this last ten days for meat." "Thutty pounds!" said the landlord. "Ay, all that." "What for?" said Sim. "Meat for soup," said Johnson. "Ah, and I've took a lot of him for grosheries," said the grocer.