Part 9 (1/2)

”Carrying Mr Manners' tackle,” said the lad.

”Oh! then you, Josh. Take the lantern for a bit.”

”Not at all,” said the Vicar, stoutly. ”That little bit of duty I do cling to, and I am not going to surrender the light to any one. How are you feeling, Mr Manners?”

”Fairly, thank you,” was the response; ”but I am thankful that the journey is not twice as far.”

”Well, yes,” said Mr Willows, dryly. ”We can do with it as short as it is. Have a rest now, sir?”

”No, no,” said the artist; ”not for a bit.”

It was a slow march home indeed, and later frequent rests had to be indulged in.

”I say,” said Will to Josh, ”it's a pretty holiday, isn't it! Here, you take these things. Catch hold.”

”All right.”

The march was resumed.

”Drinkwater is a trump,” said Will at last.

”Rather a surly one,” said Josh. ”Why can't he be amiable?”

”I don't know.”

”Whatever he says has got a sort of a sting in it.”

”Hus.h.!.+ He'll hear.”

”I wish he had.”

”Look here, my man,” said Mr Carlile at last, ”have a rest now for a bit. I will go on the other side of Mr Manners.”

”No, no, sir; I can manage, thank ye,” said Drinkwater. ”I am a strong one, you know, and it comes easy to such as me.”

”So I see. But even the strong need rest, you know.”

The man shook his head.

”I don't need no rest,” he said. ”I have worked hard all my life, and it won't hurt me to do a bit more.”

”Hark at that,” said Josh. ”Old grumpus!”

”Better leave him alone,” said Willows. ”He will have his own way.

Don't interfere.”

”Oh, very well,” said the Vicar. ”Want a rest, Mr Manners?”

”No, no. We had better get on. What time is it?”