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Many a mile his feet walked in them; but they're resting now in Abraham's bosom." Then Cæsar's voice rose loud over the doleful tones around the counter. "'Vital Spark of Heavenly Flame' raise it, Mr. Niplightly. Pity we haven't Peter and his fiddle here he played with life." "I can'd sing to-day, having a cold, bud I'll whisle id," said the Constable. "Pitch it in altoes, then," said Cæsar.
It was found that among the saints there were certain weaker brethren who did not want a hymn to their ale. One of these was Johnny Niplightly, the rural constable, who was the complement of Katherine in the choir, being leader of the singing among the men. He was a tall man with a long nose, which seemed to have a perpetual cold.
But sometimes he knew it was not; and that was when he caught himself in the middle of Cæsar's mightiest prayers crooking his neck past the pitching bald pate of Johnny Niplightly, the constable, that he might get a glimpse of the top of Katherine's bonnet when her eyes were down. Pete fell into a melancholy, and once more took to music as a comforter.
But then came the prick of conscience: he had come to plead for Pete, and he must be loyal; he must not yield; he must exhaust all his resources of argument and persuasion. The wild idea occurred to him to take Cæsar by force of the Bible. "But think what the old book says, Mr. Cregeen, 'take no thought for the morrow' " "That's what Johnny Niplightly said, Mr.
"Wine is a serpent, and strong drink a mocker," said Cæsar. "Who'll be the new Dempster, Mr. Niplightly," said Jonaique. "Hm!" snuffled the constable, easing his helmet, "dat's a serious matter, Mr. Jelly. We'll dake our time well dake our time." "Chut! There's only one man for it," said Cæsar. "Perhaps yes, perhaps no," said the constable. "Do you mane the young Ballawhaine, Mr.
There was a moment's silence. The uplifted toe of Katherine trailed back to the ground, the fiddle of Pete slithered to his farther side, and the smacking lips of Niplightly transfixed themselves agape. Then the voice of the parson was heard to say, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!" and suddenly Cæsar, still on the threshold, went down on his knees to pray. Cæsar's prayer was only a short one.
I've been going the rounds saying 'goodbye' to the ould chums Jonaique, and John the Widow, and Niplightly, and Kelly the postman. Not much heart at some of them; just a bit of a something stowed away in their giblets; but it isn't right to be expecting too much at all. This is the only one that doesn't seem willing to part with me."
"This is no time for feasting to the refreshment of our carnal bodies," said Cæsar severely. "It's a time for praise and prayer." "I'll pud up a word or dwo," said the Constable meekly. "Masther Niplightly," said Cæsar, "don't be too ready to show your gift. It's vanity. I'll engage in prayer myself." And Cæsar offered praise for all departed in faith and fear.
Niplightly eased the strap of his beaver, liberated his lips, took a deep draught of ale, and then turned to Pete, with apologetic smiles, and suggested a change in the music. At that Katherine leapt up as light as laughter. "A dance," she cried, "a dance!" "Good sakes alive?" said Nancy Joe. "Listen to the girl? Is it the moon, Kitty, or what is it that's doing on you?"
"No use bandying words, sir, wid a single woman dat lives alone wid a single man," said Mr. Niplightly. Nancy flopped the child from her right arm to her left, and with the back of her hand she slapped the constable across the face. "Take that for the cure of a bad heart," she said, "and tell the Dempster I gave it you." Then she turned on the postman and Black Tom.
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