"You do?"

"Yes, troth, do I."

"Why then that's more than you'll be able to do long, plase the fates."

"If all my customers wor like your Reverence, it is."

"I'll tell you what it is, Nancy, I often threatened to take the
congregation from 'The Forth,' and I'll do it--if I don't, may I never
sup sorrow!"

Big with such a threat, Father Ned retired. The apprehensions of Nancy
on this point, however, were more serious than she was willing to
acknowledge. This dispute took place a few days before the night in
question.

Father Ned was a little man, with a red face, slender legs, and
flat feet; he was usually cased in a pair of ribbed minister's grey
small-clothes, with leggings of the same material. His coat, which was
much too short, rather resembled a jerkin, and gave him altogether an
appearance very much at variance with an idea of personal gravity or
reverence. Over this dress he wore in winter, a dark great-coat, with
high collar, that buttoned across his face, showing only the point, of
his red nose; so that, when riding or walking, his hat rested more upon
the collar of his coat than upon his head.

The curate was a tall, raw-boned young man, with high jutting
cheek-bones, low forehead, and close knees; to his shoulders, which were