"
"You can shave him, too, if you like."
"If I th--thought you were s--serious--"
"Have some more brandy." Mr. Jope pulled out and proffered a flask.
"Only don't overdo it, or it'll make your hand shaky. . . . Serious?
You may lay to it that Bill's serious. He's that set on the idea, it
don't make no difference to him, as you may have noticed, Eli's
mother not bein' alive to take pleasure in it. Why, he wanted to
embalm _her_, too! He's doin' this now for his own gratification, is
Bill, an' you may take it from me when Bill sets his heart on a thing
he sees it through. Don't you cross him, that's my advice."
"But--but--"
"No, you don't." As the little man made a wild spring to flee up the
beach, Mr. Jope shot out a hand and gripped him by the coat collar.
"Now look here," he said very quietly, as the poor wretch would have
grovelled at the Parson's feet, "you was boastin' to Bill, not an
hour agone, as you could stuff _anything_."
"Don't hurt him," Parson Spettigew interposed, touching Mr. Jope's
arm.
"I'm not hurtin' him, your Reverence, only--Eh? What's that?"
All turned their faces towards the store.
"Your friend is calling to you," said the Parson.
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