"Let's have the yarn."
"Ha-ha! It was a corker! Just think of it; a funeral procession moving
slowly across the river, with Tim Fraser and Parson John racing by like a
whirlwind. I never saw anything like it, ha-ha!" and Miles leaning back
laughed loud and long at the recollection.
Farrington was all attention now. A gleam of delight shone in his eyes,
and a faint sigh of relief escaped his lips. He controlled his eagerness,
however, for he wished to draw Miles out, and learn the whole story.
"Ye don't mean to tell me," he remarked, "that the parson was racin' on
Sunday? Surely ye must be mistaken!"
"I'm a liar then," calmly replied the other, gazing thoughtfully down at
his boots. "Yes, I'm a liar, and a fool! Why, didn't I see the whole thing
with my own eyes? And didn't all the people of Craig's Corner see it, too?
Ask them, they'll tell you the same."
"I don't doubt yer word, Miles, but it's so unusual. The parson never did
anything like that before, did he?"
"Not to my knowledge. But he's mighty fond of a horse, and a fast one at
that, so I guess when Tim Fraser clipped up he couldn't resist the
temptation.
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