'
'Roving stones gather no moss, Joe,' said Gabriel.
'Nor milestones much,' replied Joe. 'I'm little better than one here,
and see as much of the world.'
'Then, what would you do, Joe?' pursued the locksmith, stroking his chin
reflectively. 'What could you be? Where could you go, you see?'
'I must trust to chance, Mr Varden.'
'A bad thing to trust to, Joe. I don't like it. I always tell my girl
when we talk about a husband for her, never to trust to chance, but to
make sure beforehand that she has a good man and true, and then chance
will neither make her nor break her. What are you fidgeting about there,
Joe? Nothing gone in the harness, I hope?'
'No no,' said Joe--finding, however, something very engrossing to do in
the way of strapping and buckling--'Miss Dolly quite well?'
'Hearty, thankye. She looks pretty enough to be well, and good too.'
'She's always both, sir'--
'So she is, thank God!'
'I hope,' said Joe after some hesitation, 'that you won't tell this
story against me--this of my having been beat like the boy they'd make
of me--at all events, till I have met this man again and settled the
account. It'll be a better story then.'
'Why who should I tell it to?' returned Gabriel.
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