"But I'm all run to fat, like. I've played Portia in my
time. But now it's as much as I can do to get through with Maria Martin
or Belladonna."
"Fat!" Jock protested. "Fat! I wouldn't have an ounce taken off ye for
fifty guineas."
He was so enthusiastic that Mrs Clowes blushed.
"What's this about hell-fire?" she questioned. "I often think of it--I'm
a lonely woman, and I often think of it."
"You lonely!" Jock protested again. "With all them childer?"
"Ay!"
There was a silence.
"See thee here, missis!" he exploded, jumping up from the pail. "Ye must
come to th' Bethesda down yon, on Sunday morning, and hear the word o'
God. It'll be the making on ye."
Mrs Clowes shook her head.
"Nay!"
"And bring yer children," he persisted.
"If it was you as was going to preach like!" she said, looking away.
"It is me as is going to preach," he answered loudly and proudly. "And
I'll preach agen any man in this town for a dollar!"
Jock was forgetting himself: an accident which often happened to him.
V
The Bethesda was crowded on Sunday morning; partly because it was
Martinmas Sunday, and partly because the preacher was Jock-at-a-Venture.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154