It wasn't till our celebrations were over that we noticed that
anything was wrong in Fairfield. 'Twas shoemaker who told me first
about it one morning at the "Fox and Grapes." "You know my great
great-uncle?" he said to me.

"You mean Joshua, the quiet lad," I answered, knowing him well.

"Quiet!" said shoemaker indignantly. "Quiet you call him, coming home
at three o'clock every morning as drunk as a magistrate and waking up
the whole house with his noise."

"Why, it can't be Joshua!" I said, for I knew him for one of the most
respectable young ghosts in the village.

"Joshua it is," said shoemaker; "and one of these nights he'll find
himself out in the street if he isn't careful."

This kind of talk shocked me, I can tell you, for I don't like to
hear a man abusing his own family, and I could hardly believe that a
steady youngster like Joshua had taken to drink. But just then in
came butcher Aylwin in such a temper that he could hardly drink his
beer. "The young puppy! the young puppy!" he kept on saying; and it
was some time before shoemaker and I found out that he was talking
about his ancestor that fell at Senlac.

"Drink?" said shoemaker hopefully, for we all like company in our
misfortunes, and butcher nodded grimly.

"The young noodle," he said, emptying his tankard.