Uncle threw back his handsome head and roared with laughter. But fool-wisdom told him that this was the right way to tackle a backslider. What a pity that Jane disdained indirect methods! He shook a long forefinger in a smiling face. "You lil' besom----! Now, if Alferd ever takes a notion to drink more ale than be strictly needful to slake a pleasant thirst, you poke just such fun at 'un, and smile at 'un, as you be smilin' at an old sinner this minute. My wife be a good, faithful 'ooman, but vartue wi' her be turned sourish, like that there clarety wine, the only liquor as never did lie easy on my good stomach. Maybe I married her latish in life. And cooks, from stewin' over fire, do seem to overbake their livers and lights. Anyways, hard looks drive a man to ale-house; smiles keep 'un at home. I admits to you, Fancy, but never a word to Jane, mind 'ee, that ale be my weakness. 'Twould be blasphemious to say that the Lard ever walked wi' me _to_ an ale-house, except on one very notable occasion, but 'tis a fact that in His Marcy He have walked wi' me _from_ the _Sir John Barleycorn_. And now you has it." "Tell me about the notable exception." "Ah-h-h! You knows. The Lard walked wi' me when I downscrambled Willum Saint. I gives He the credit. He put the notion into my head o' flingin' Willum's ale into Willum's face, and bashin' 'un wi' his own tankard. I tell 'ee that notion come to me bang from Kingdom Come. My own notion was different. I calkilated on a stand-up fight. Willum might ha' downed me, being so young and strong a man. And I tells 'ee more, a lil' secret, seein' as you has the trick o' squeezin' secrets out o' sinners: the Lard walks wi' me when I comes here to see you. And I be drinkin' less ale in consekence." With that he kissed Fancy and took his leave. Solomon jumped into the warm, cushioned arm-chair. But, instead of curling himself up, he walked three times round the chair, and then sat up, with his head on one side glancing interrogatively at Fancy, as much as to say: "If you want fool-wisdom, why not tap it at its source?" Fancy eyed him reflectively. All day, the dog had behaved strangely. He never left Fancy for a moment. But, till now, he had seemed disinclined for conversation. And he had hardly touched his dinner. Again and again he had walked round the kitchen, whining a little. Fancy, supposing that he wished to go outside, had opened the door, but he remained with her, staring up at her, as if he had some message to deliver. Finally, she jumped to the conclusion that the dog must be feeling unwell, or, possibly, cats lay heavy on his conscience. "What is it, Solomon?" He whined. "Got a pain, Solly?"