"We must think a little," replied the schoolmaster, who put his hand up to his chin, and remained silent for a minute or two. "No," resumed he, at last; "on second thoughts I cannot do it. He halves his beer with me. No pension--no beer; that's a self-evident proposition and conclusion. It were ingratitude on my part, and I cannot consent to your proposal," continued the schoolmaster; "nay, more, I will defend him against your murderous intentions to the very last." "Why, Master Furness, you must be somewhat the worse for liquor yourself: it was your proposal to throw him over the bridge, not mine." "Take care what you say," replied the schoolmaster; "would you accuse me of murder, or intent to murder?" "No, not by no means--only you proposed heaving him over the bridge: I will say that." "Friend Byres, it's my opinion you'll say anything but your prayers; but in your present state I overlook it. Let us go on, or I shall have two men to carry home instead of one. Come, now, take one of his arms, while I take the other, and raise him up. It is but a quarter of a mile to the cottage." Byres, who, as we observed, was by far the more sober of the two, did not think it worth his while to reply to the pedagogue. After a few staggers on the part of the latter, their comrade was raised up and led away between them. The drunken man appeared to be so far aware of what was going on that he moved his legs mechanically, and in a short time they arrived at the cottage-door, which the pedagogue struck with his fist so as to make it rattle on its hinges. The door was opened by a tall, handsome woman, holding a candle in her hand. "I thought so," said she, shaking her head. "The old story: now he will be ill all night, and not get up till noon." "What a weary life it is with a drunken husband. Bring him and thank you kindly for your trouble." "It has been hard work and hot work," observed the schoolmaster, sitting down in a chair, after they had placed their comrade on the bed. "Indeed, and it must be," replied the wife. "Will you have a drop of small beer, Mr Furness?" "Yes, if you please, and so will Mr Byres, too. What a pity it is your good man will not keep to small beer." "Yes, indeed," replied the wife, who went into the back premises, and soon returned with a quart mug of beer. The schoolmaster emptied half the mug, and then handed it to the pedlar. "And my little friend Joey, fast asleep, I'll warrant!" "Yes, poor child, and so should I have been by this time; the clock has gone twelve." "Well, Mrs Rushbrook, I wish you a good night. Come, Mr Byres, Mrs Rushbrook must want to be in bed." "Good night, Mr Furness, and good night, sir, and many thanks." The schoolmaster and pedlar quitted the cottage. Mrs Rushbrook, after having watched them for a minute, carefully closed the door. "They're gone now," said she, as she turned to her husband.