Lizzie advanced without hesitation, and put out one hand, while she fingered her coral necklace with the other, and looked up into Mr. Tryan’s face with a reconnoitring gaze.  He stroked the satin head, and said in his gentlest voice, ’How do you do, Lizzie? will you give me a kiss?’ She put up her little bud of a mouth, and then retreating a little and glancing down at her frock, said,—­’Dit id my noo fock.  I put it on ’tod you wad toming.  Tally taid you wouldn’t ‘ook at it.’

‘Hush, hush, Lizzie, little gells must be seen and not heard,’ said Mrs. Jerome; while grandpapa, winking significantly, and looking radiant with delight at Lizzie’s extraordinary promise of cleverness, set her up on her high cane-chair by the side of grandma, who lost no time in shielding the beauties of the new frock with a napkin.

‘Well now, Mr. Tryan,’ said Mr. Jerome, in a very serious tone, when tea had been distributed, ‘let me hear how you’re a-goin’ on about the lectur.  When I was i’ the town yisterday, I heared as there was pessecutin’ schemes a-bein’ laid again’ you.  I fear me those raskills ’ll mek things very onpleasant to you.’

’I’ve no doubt they will attempt it; indeed, I quite expect there will be a regular mob got up on Sunday evening, as there was when the delegates returned, on purpose to annoy me and the congregation on our way to church.’

‘Ah, they’re capible o’ anything, such men as Dempster an’ Budd; an’ Tomlinson backs ’em wi’ money, though he can’t wi’ brains.  Howiver, Dempster’s lost one client by his wicked doins, an’ I’m deceived if he won’t lose more nor one.  I little thought, Mr. Tryan, when I put my affairs into his hands twenty ’ear ago this Michaelmas, as he was to turn out a pessecutor o’ religion.  I niver lighted on a cliverer, promisiner young man nor he was then.  They talked of his bein’ fond of a extry glass now an’ then, but niver nothin’ like what he’s come to since.  An’ it’s head-piece you must look for in a lawyer, Mr. Tryan, it’s head-piece.  His wife, too, was al’ys an uncommon favourite o’ mine—­poor thing!  I hear sad stories about her now.  But she’s druv to it, she’s druv to it, Mr. Tryan.  A tender-hearted woman to the poor, she is, as iver lived; an’ as pretty-spoken a woman as you need wish to talk to.  Yes!  I’d al’ys a likin’ for Dempster an’ his wife, spite o’ iverything.  But as soon as iver I heared o’ that dilegate business, I says, says I, that man shall hev no more to do wi’ my affairs.  It may put me t’ inconvenience, but I’ll encourage no man as pessecutes religion.’

‘He is evidently the brain and hand of the persecution,’ said Mr. Tryan.  ’There may be a strong feeling against me in a large number of the inhabitants—­it must be so from the great ignorance of spiritual things in this place.  But I fancy there would have been no formal opposition to the lecture, if Dempster had not planned it.  I am not myself the least alarmed at anything he can do; he will find I am not to be