“We took the liberty to come and see ’ee, sir,” said Reuben, letting his hat hang in his left hand, and touching with his right the brim of an imaginary one on his head.  “We’ve come to see ’ee, sir, man and man, and no offence, I hope?”

“None at all,” said Mr. Maybold.

“This old aged man standing by my side is father; William Dewy by name, sir.”

“Yes; I see it is,” said the vicar, nodding aside to old William, who smiled.

“I thought you mightn’t know en without his bass-viol,” the tranter apologized.  “You see, he always wears his best clothes and his bass-viol a-Sundays, and it do make such a difference in a’ old man’s look.”

“And who’s that young man?” the vicar said.

“Tell the pa’son yer name,” said the tranter, turning to Leaf, who stood with his elbows nailed back to a bookcase.

“Please, Thomas Leaf, your holiness!” said Leaf, trembling.

“I hope you’ll excuse his looks being so very thin,” continued the tranter deprecatingly, turning to the vicar again.  “But ’tisn’t his fault, poor feller.  He’s rather silly by nature, and could never get fat; though he’s a’ excellent treble, and so we keep him on.”

“I never had no head, sir,” said Leaf, eagerly grasping at this opportunity for being forgiven his existence.

“Ah, poor young man!” said Mr. Maybold.

“Bless you, he don’t mind it a bit, if you don’t, sir,” said the tranter assuringly.  “Do ye, Leaf?”

“Not I—­not a morsel—­hee, hee!  I was afeard it mightn’t please your holiness, sir, that’s all.”

The tranter, finding Leaf get on so very well through his negative qualities, was tempted in a fit of generosity to advance him still higher, by giving him credit for positive ones.  “He’s very clever for a silly chap, good-now, sir.  You never knowed a young feller keep his smock-frocks so clane; very honest too.  His ghastly looks is all there is against en, poor feller; but we can’t help our looks, you know, sir.”

“True:  we cannot.  You live with your mother, I think, Leaf?”

The tranter looked at Leaf to express that the most friendly assistant to his tongue could do no more for him now, and that he must be left to his own resources.

“Yes, sir:  a widder, sir.  Ah, if brother Jim had lived she’d have had a clever son to keep her without work!”

“Indeed! poor woman.  Give her this half-crown.  I’ll call and see your mother.”

“Say, ‘Thank you, sir,’” the tranter whispered imperatively towards Leaf.

“Thank you, sir!” said Leaf.

“That’s it, then; sit down, Leaf,” said Mr. Maybold.

“Y-yes, sir!”

The tranter cleared his throat after this accidental parenthesis about Leaf, rectified his bodily position, and began his speech.

“Mr. Mayble,” he said, “I hope you’ll excuse my common way, but I always like to look things in the face.”