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III. The Custom of the Country

           

           “Isupposethemoonwasterriblefullwhenyouwereborn?”saidChristian,withalookofhopelessadmirationatFairway.

           “Well,’awasnotnew,”Mr.Fairwayreplied,withadisinterestedgaze.

           “I’dsoonergowithoutdrinkatLammas-tidethanbeamanofnomoon,”continuedChristian,inthesameshatteredrecitative.“’TissaidIbeonlytheramesofaman,andnogoodformyraceatall;andIsupposethat’sthecauseo’t.”

           “Ay,”saidGrandferCantle,somewhatsubduedinspirit;“andyethismothercriedforscoresofhourswhen’awasaboy,forfearheshouldoutgrowhisselfandgoforasoldier.”

           “Well,there’smanyjustasbadashe.”saidFairway.

           “Wethersmustlivetheirtimeaswellasothersheep,poorsoul.”

           “SoperhapsIshallrubon?OughtItobeafearedo’nights,MasterFairway?”

           “You’llhavetoliealoneallyourlife;and’tisnottomarriedcouplesbuttosinglesleepersthataghostshowshimselfwhen’adocome.Onehasbeenseenlately,too.Averystrangeone.”

           “No—don’ttalkaboutitif’tisagreeableofyenotto!’TwillmakemyskincrawlwhenIthinkofitinbedalone.Butyouwill—ah,youwill,Iknow,Timothy;andIshalldreamallnighto’t!Averystrangeone?Whatsortofaspiritdidyemeanwhenyesaid,averystrangeone,Timothy?—no,no—don’ttellme.”

           “Idon’thalfbelieveinspiritsmyself.ButIthinkitghostlyenough—whatIwastold.’Twasalittleboythatzidit.”

           “Whatwasitlike?—no,don’t—”

           “Aredone.

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