At supper that night Pascoe sprang a question on the Vicar.
“Be you convarted?” he asked, looking up with his mouth full of bread and cheese.
“I hope so.”
“Aw, you hopes! ’Tis a bad case with ’ee, then. When a man’s convarted, he knows. Seemin’ to me, you baint. You don’t show enough of the bright side. Now, as I go along, my very toes keep ticking salvation. Down goes one foot, ‘Glory be!’ Down goes the other, ‘A-men!’ Aw! I must dance for joy!”
He got up and danced around the kitchen.
“I wish the man would go,” Humility thought to herself.
His very next words answered her wish. “I’ll be leavin’ to-morrow, friends. I’ve got a room down to the village, an’ I’ve borreyed a razor. I’m goin’ to tramp round the mines at the back here, an’ shave the miners at a ha’penny a chin. That’ll pay my way. There’s a new preacher planned to the Bible Christians, down to Innis, an’ I’m goin’ to help he. My dears, don’t ‘ee tell me the Lord didn’ know what He was about when He cast the Garibaldi ashore!”
He left the Parsonage next day. “Ma’am,” he said to Humility on leaving, “I salute this here house. Peace be on this here house, for it is worthy. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet’s reward.”
Two mornings later, Taffy, looking out from his bedroom window soon after daybreak, saw the prophet trudging along the road. He had a clean white bag slung across his shoulder; it carried his soap and razors, no doubt. And every now and then he waved his walking-stick and skipped as he went.
 Loading vessels from the jetties.
A HAPPY DAY.
A volley of sand darkened and shook the pane. Taffy, sponging himself in his tub and singing between his gasps, looked up hastily, then flung a big towel about him and ran to the window.
Honoria was standing below; and Comedy, her gray pony, with a creel and a couple of fishing rods strapped to his canvas girth.
“Wake up! I’ve come to take you fishing.”
Mr. Raymond had started off at daybreak to walk to Truro on business; so there would be no lessons that morning, and Taffy had been looking forward to a lonely whole holiday.
“I’ve brought two pasties,” said Honoria, “and a bottle of milk. We’ll go over to George’s country and catch trout. He is to meet us at Vellingey Bridge. We arranged it all yesterday, only I kept it for a surprise.”
Taffy could have leapt for joy. “Go in and speak to mother,” he said; “she’s in the kitchen.”
Honoria hitched Comedy’s bridle over the gate, walked up the barren little garden, and knocked at the door. When Mrs. Raymond opened it she held out a hand politely.
“How do you do?” she said, “I have come to ask if Taffy may go fishing with me.”