"Dannie," says he, with the air of imparting a grateful secret, "I got
that there black-an'-white young parson corrupted. I got un," he
repeated, leaning forward, his fantastic countenance alight with pride
and satisfaction--"I got un corrupted! I've got un t' say," says he,
"that 'tis sometimes wise t' do evil that good may come. An' when a
young feller says that," says he, with a grave, grave nodding, so that
his disfigurements were all most curiously elongated, "he've sold his
poor, mean soul t' the devil."
"I wisht," I complained, "that you'd leave the poor man alone."
"Why, Dannie," says my uncle, simply, "he's paid for!"
"Paid for!" cries I.
"Ay, lad," he chided; "t' be sure, that there young black-an'-white
parson is paid for."