my old woman can't turn me no more than a bull. And she don't like
my obstinate fits. But, you see, I daren't sir, once I axed myself
that."

"Stick to that, Rogers," I said.

"Besides, sir," he went on, "Simmons wants it more than I do. He's
got a sick wife; and my old woman, thank God, is hale and hearty.
And there is another thing besides, sir: he might take it hard of
you, sir, and think it was turning away an old servant like; and
then, sir, he wouldn't be ready to hear what you had to tell him,
and might, mayhap, lose a deal o' comfort. And that I would take
worst of all, sir."

"Well, well, Rogers, Simmons shall have the job."

"Thank ye, sir," said the old man.

His wife, who could not see the thing quite from her husband's point
of view, was too honest to say anything; but she was none the less
cordial to me. The daughter stood looking from one to the other with
attentive face, which took everything, but revealed nothing.

I rose to go. As I reached the door, I remembered the tobacco in my
pocket. I had not bought it for myself. I never could smoke. Nor do
I conceive that smoking is essential to a clergyman in the country;
though I have occasionally envied one of my brethren in London, who
will sit down by the fire, and, lighting his pipe, at the same time
please his host and subdue the bad smells of the place. And I never
could hit his way of talking to his parishioners either. He could