knob, but nobody appeared.

'Perhaps they beant at home,' sighed the driver. 'And I promised
myself a bit of supper in Pa'son Swancourt's kitchen. Sich lovely
mate-pize and figged keakes, and cider, and drops o' cordial that
they do keep here!'

'All right, naibours! Be ye rich men or be ye poor men, that ye
must needs come to the world's end at this time o' night?'
exclaimed a voice at this instant; and, turning their heads, they
saw a rickety individual shambling round from the back door with a
horn lantern dangling from his hand.

'Time o' night, 'a b'lieve! and the clock only gone seven of 'em.
Show a light, and let us in, William Worm.'

'Oh, that you, Robert Lickpan?'

'Nobody else, William Worm.'

'And is the visiting man a-come?'

'Yes,' said the stranger. 'Is Mr. Swancourt at home?'

'That 'a is, sir. And would ye mind coming round by the back way?
The front door is got stuck wi' the wet, as he will do sometimes;
and the Turk can't open en. I know I am only a poor wambling man
that 'ill never pay the Lord for my making, sir; but I can show
the way in, sir.'