He stood at the door and watched those of his neighbours who were not Roman Catholics making for church and chapel, to which half a dozen tinkly bells invited them.

The weather had finally cleared up, and a goodly number of people waded past him through the mire.

Among them, in seemly Sabbath dress, went Ocock, with his two black sheep at heel.

The old man was a rigid Methodist, and at a recent prayer-meeting had been moved to bear public witness to his salvation.

This was no doubt one reason why the young scapegrace Tom's almost simultaneous misconduct had been so bitter a pill for him to swallow: while, through God's mercy, he was become an exemplar to the weaker brethren, a son of his made his name to stink in the nostrils of the reputable community.