Suddenly he lurched forward, and with a newborn instinct and raising a defensive arm as he did so, the Angel stepped aside to avoid him. The fist missed the Angelic shoulder by a hairsbreadth, and the tinker collapsed in a heap with his face against the parapet of the bridge. The Angel hesitated over the writhing dusty heap of blasphemy for a moment, and then turned towards the man's companion up the road. "Lemmeget up," said the man on the bridge: "Lemmeget up, you swine. I'll show yer." A strange disgust, a quivering repulsion came upon the Angel. He walked slowly away from the drunkard towards the man with the grindstone. "What does it all mean?" said the Angel. "I don't understand it." "Dam fool!... say's it's 'is silver weddin'," answered the man with the grindstone, evidently much annoyed; and then, in a tone of growing impatience, he called down the road once more; "Carm on!" "Silver wedding!" said the Angel. "What is a silver wedding?" "Jest is rot," said the man on the barrow. "But 'E's always avin' some 'scuse like that. Fair sickenin it is. Lars week it wus 'is bloomin' birthday, and _then_ 'e ad'nt ardly got sober orf a comlimentary drunk to my noo barrer. (_Carm_ on, you fool.)" "But I don't understand," said the Angel. "Why does he sway about so? Why does he keep on trying to pick up his hat like that--and missing it?" "_Why!_" said the tinker. "Well this _is_ a blasted innocent country! _Why!_ Because 'E's blind! Wot else? (Carm on--_Dam_ yer). Because 'E's just as full as 'E can 'old. That's _why_!" The Angel noticing the tone of the second tinker's voice, judged it wiser not to question him further. But he stood by the grindstone and continued to watch the mysterious evolutions on the bridge. "Carm on! I shall 'ave to go and pick up that 'at I suppose.... 'E's always at it. I ne'er 'ad such a blooming pard before. _Always_ at it, 'e is." The man with the barrow meditated. "Taint as if 'e was a gentleman and 'adnt no livin' to get. An' 'e's such a reckless fool when 'e gets a bit on. Goes offerin out everyone 'e meets. (_There_ you go!) I'm blessed if 'e didn't offer out a 'ole bloomin' Salvation Army. No judgment in it. (Oh! _Carm_ on! _Carm_ on!). 'Ave to go and pick this bloomin' 'at up now I s'pose. 'E don't care, _wot_ trouble 'e gives." The Angel watched the second tinker walk back, and, with affectionate blasphemy, assist the first to his hat and his coat. Then he turned, absolutely mystified, towards the village again. XXVII. After that incident the Angel walked along past the mill and round behind the church, to examine the tombstones. "This seems to be the place where they put the broken pieces," said the Angel--reading the inscriptions. "Curious word--relict! Resurgam! Then they are not done with quite. What a huge pile it requires to keep her down.... It is spirited of her."