"Of course there is."

"And do you ever go to it?"

"Of course I do."

"At long intervals, Mr. Silas?"

"Every Sunday, sir, without fail."

Some third person behind me burst out laughing; some third person had
been listening to our talk. I turned round, and discovered Ambrose
Meadowcroft.

"I understand the drift of your catechism, sir, though my brother
doesn't," he said. "Don't be hard on Silas, sir. He isn't the only
Christian who leaves his Christianity in the pew when he goes out of
church. You will never make us friends with John Jago, try as you may.
Why, what have you got there, Mr. Lefrank? May I die if it isn't my
stick! I have been looking for it everywhere!"

The thick beechen stick had been feeling uncomfortably heavy in my
invalid hand for some time past. There was no sort of need for my
keeping it any longer. John Jago was going away to Narrabee, and Silas
Meadowcroft's savage temper was subdued to a sulky repose. I handed the
stick back to Ambrose. He laughed as he took it from me.

"You can't think how strange it feels, Mr. Lefrank, to be out without
one's stick," he said. "A man gets used to his stick, sir; doesn't he?