“I am sorry you are out of work,” I said.  “But my garden is sadly out of order, and I must have something done to it.  You don’t dislike gardening, do you?”

“Well, I beant a right good hand at garden-work,” answered the old man, with some embarrassment, scratching his gray head with a troubled scratch.

There was more in this than met the ear; but what, I could not conjecture.  I would press the point a little.  So I took him at his own word.

“I won’t ask you to do any of the more ornamental part,” I said,—­“only plain digging and hoeing.”

“I would rather be excused, sir.”

“I am afraid I made you think”—­

“I thought nothing, sir.  I thank you kindly, sir.”

“I assure you I want the work done, and I must employ some one else if you don’t undertake it.”

“Well, sir, my back’s bad now—­no, sir, I won’t tell a story about it.  I would just rather not, sir.”

“Now,” his wife broke in, “now, Old Rogers, why won’t ’ee tell the parson the truth, like a man, downright?  If ye won’t, I’ll do it for ’ee.  The fact is, sir,” she went on, turning to me, with a plate in her hand, which she was wiping, “the fact is, that the old parson’s man for that kind o’ work was Simmons, t’other end of the village; and my man is so afeard o’ hurtin’ e’er another, that he’ll turn the bread away from his own mouth and let it fall in the dirt.”

“Now, now, old ’oman, don’t ’ee belie me.  I’m not so bad as that.  You see, sir, I never was good at knowin’ right from wrong like.  I never was good, that is, at tellin’ exactly what I ought to do.  So when anything comes up, I just says to myself, ’Now, Old Rogers, what do you think the Lord would best like you to do?’ And as soon as I ax myself that, I know directly what I’ve got to do; and then my old woman can’t turn me no more than a bull.  And she don’t like my obstinate fits.  But, you see, I daren’t sir, once I axed myself that.”

“Stick to that, Rogers,” I said.

“Besides, sir,” he went on, “Simmons wants it more than I do.  He’s got a sick wife; and my old woman, thank God, is hale and hearty.  And there is another thing besides, sir:  he might take it hard of you, sir, and think it was turning away an old servant like; and then, sir, he wouldn’t be ready to hear what you had to tell him, and might, mayhap, lose a deal o’ comfort.  And that I would take worst of all, sir.”

“Well, well, Rogers, Simmons shall have the job.”

“Thank ye, sir,” said the old man.

His wife, who could not see the thing quite from her husband’s point of view, was too honest to say anything; but she was none the less cordial to me.  The daughter stood looking from one to the other with attentive face, which took everything, but revealed nothing.