“'Tis better than that, good sir,” said he. “The truth is that the smith of these parts is a fellow not to be trusted by travellers: his forge is black tonight, unless his apprentices are better men than he. He is a huge eater of salmon and divers dainties, and he will drink as much as a mugful of cider before the night is past.”
“But he is a fellow that is ready to sacrifice a cut of salmon and a gallon of cider to earn a sixpence for a shoe, sir,” said Hal Holmes, rising from the settee and giving himself a shake. “In short, sir, I be Holmes, the smith, whose lewd character has been notified to your honour, and if you trust me with your nag, I'll promise you to fit a shoe on him within the half-hour.”
The stranger looked from the smith to the miller, and back again to the smith, and his smile broadened.
“Good neighbours both, I can see,” he said. “I thank you, smith. How far is it to Porthawn, pray, and what may this placed be called?”
Before he could be answered the door opened and Jake Pullsford entered the room. The sound of his entrance caused the stranger to turn his head. Jake gave an exclamation of surprise.
“Mr. Wesley!” he said in a whisper that had something of awe in its tone. “Mr. Wesley! How is this possible? I have spent the afternoon talking of you, sir.”
At the sound of the name the miller glanced meaningly at the smith. They were plainly surprised.
“Well, my brother,” said Mr. Wesley, “I ask nothing better than to give you the chance of talking to me for the next hour. I remember you well. You are Jake Pullsford, who came to see me a month ago at Bristol. You have been much in my thoughts--in my prayers.”
Jake was so excited at finding himself by a curious accident once more face to face with the man who, as he had happily confessed to his friends, had produced so great an impression upon him as to change the whole course of his life, that he began to talk to him in his usual rapid way, as though Mr. Wesley and himself were the only persons in the room.
The miller remained on his feet. The blacksmith was also on his feet. He had assumed a professional air. After all, he was likely to be the most important person present. The girl in the chair remained with her hands folded on her lap. She had the aspect of a schoolgirl who has broken out of bounds and awaits an interview with the schoolmistress. She had heard during her visit to Bath of this Mr. Wesley and his views--at least such views as were attributed to him by the fashionable folk who assembled to have their gossip and intrigue flavoured by the sulphur of the waters. He was not so easy-going as the clergymen at Bath. She could not doubt that he would esteem it his duty to lecture her on her levity. It was known that he abhorred playgoing. He was naturally abhorred by the players. They had the best of reasons: when he was preaching in any town that had a theatre, the players remained with empty pockets.