"Did you see it, sir?" asked Jerk, carried away by the tale.
"Who said I saw it? " demanded the cleric sharply.
"Well, you said you wrote the song, sir, and at the time it happened."
"Nothing of the kind—I said nothing of the kind. The song's an old one, an ancient thing. God knows what rascal invented it, but you can depend upon it, a rascal he was. I don't know why I should hum it—I don't know what it means; can't make head or tale of the jargon."
"You explains it very sensible, I thinks," replied Jerry.
"I don't—I don't. I give you my word it's Greek to me."
"But Greek's easy to parsons, ain't it?"
"Yes, yes—well, Chinese, Fiji—what you will—what you will. Have some rum!" The Doctor's manner was really very strange indeed. Add to this the shuttered room, the candlelight, and the strong spirits in his head, and it was small wonder that Jerry felt none too comfortable, especially as at the conclusion of the meal the door opened and Mr. Rash entered the room.
"Well, my lad," said the vicar, "now you know where I feed, drop in again. Parochial matters to attend to with the schoolmaster: must choose the hymns, you know, for Sunday, or the choir will have nothing to sing." And in this vein he led the boy out into the
