"At one, boy," he, added, shaking the boy's
hand. "Ah, then, good cheer an' many a merry jest."
Darrel left the room, waving his hand. Trove and the warden made
their way to the prison office.
"A wonderful man!" said the latter, as they went. "We love and
respect him and give him all the liberty we can. For a long time
he has been nursing in the hospital, and when I see that he is
overworking I bring him to my office and set him at easy jobs."
Darrel came presently, and they went to dinner. The tinker bowed
politely to the warden's wife and led her to the table.
"Good friends," said he, as they were sitting down, "there is an
hour that is short o' minutes an' yet holds a week o' pleasure--who
pan tell me which hour it is?"
"I never guessed a riddle," said the woman.
"Marry, dear madam, 'tis the hour o' thy hospitality," said the old
man.
"When you are in it," she answered with good humour.
"Fellow-travellers on the road to heaven," said Darrel, raising his
glass, "St. Peter is fond of a smiling face."
"And when you see him you'll make a jest," were the words of the
warden.
"For I believe he is a lover o' good company," said Darrel.
The warden's wife remarked, then, that she had enjoyed his talk in
the chapel.
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