"A depraved distrust," returned the visitor, compassionately raising his
eyebrows, "of course belongs to your state, I can't help that."

"Do you mean to tell me you have no confederates?"

"I mean to tell you nothing but what I have told you. What I have told
you is, that it is a moral impossibility that any son or daughter of Adam
can stand on this ground that I put my foot on, or on any ground that
mortal treads, and gainsay the healthy tenure on which we hold our
existence."

"Which is," sneered the Hermit, "according to you--"

"Which is," returned the other, "according to Eternal Providence, that we
must arise and wash our faces and do our gregarious work and act and re-
act on one another, leaving only the idiot and the palsied to sit
blinking in the corner. Come!" apostrophising the gate. "Open Sesame!
Show his eyes and grieve his heart! I don't care who comes, for I know
what must come of it!"

With that, he faced round a little on his billet of wood towards the
gate; and Mr. Mopes, the Hermit, after two or three ridiculous bounces of
indecision at his bed and back again, submitted to what he could not help
himself against, and coiled himself on his window-ledge, holding to his
bars and looking out rather anxiously.




CHAPTER VI--PICKING UP MISS KIMMEENS {1}