measure of the other.

"Then you have come to ask me why I lead this life," said the Hermit,
frowning in a stormy manner. "I never tell that to any human being. I
will not be asked that."

"Certainly you will not be asked that by me," said Mr. Traveller, "for I
have not the slightest desire to know."

"You are an uncouth man," said Mr. Mopes the Hermit.

"You are another," said Mr. Traveller.

The Hermit, who was plainly in the habit of overawing his visitors with
the novelty of his filth and his blanket and skewer, glared at his
present visitor in some discomfiture and surprise: as if he had taken aim
at him with a sure gun, and his piece had missed fire.

"Why do you come here at all?" he asked, after a pause.

"Upon my life," said Mr. Traveller, "I was made to ask myself that very
question only a few minutes ago--by a Tinker too."

As he glanced towards the gate in saying it, the Hermit glanced in that
direction likewise.

"Yes. He is lying on his back in the sunlight outside," said Mr,
Traveller, as if he had been asked concerning the man, "and he won't come
in; for he says--and really very reasonably--'What should I come in for?
I can see a dirty man anywhere.'"