Lou nodded with a smile, though Father Kemble couldn't see it, and started to ramble on about how he tried to do the good Lord's work by helping stray animals and poor souls he found around Whitby. "Was robbed twice last week," he mentioned as if it was an everyday occurrence for him, "poor kids didn't realize I really wanted to help them and so took what they had to and ran before I woke up the next day." He shook his head. "Poor kids, indeed."

What did animals have to do with it? George thought. But he didn't say anything, for what the man said next took all his attention. So this town had gotten worse in terms of crime as well!? It was that lazy constable's fault, no doubt! "Did they catch them?" he asked, hoping they did. He didn't want to get mugged by a group of kids.

"Nope! I didn't report them, because they only took food and clothing, and if it'll help them survive these cold Witby winters, I'll gladly let them have those things!" He started to hum cheerfully as he continued to drive along Kip, oblivious to how he hadn't raised Father Kemble's spirits in the slightest.

Not in the slightest. "If they were caught, they could go to an orphanage..." George said, and out of everyone's hair. He cared about the orphans of course. It was his christian duty to care for the orphans and widows. But it was a whole lot easier to care when he didn't actually have to smell them.

Lou frowned. Father Kemble was starting to seem like a man who did his job and followed the Lord's will but did it to his own tastes. Lou didn't much like people who behaved like that. Ah, well, he couldn't many assumptions just yet. "The orphanages in Whitby have taken a turn for the worse in the past few years," Lou admitted sadly, "last year, they stopped letting me come in to sing folk songs to the little ones around the holidays."

"Still better than the streets." George muttered. He was sure that the children would survive not having a middle ages creep with a guitar or whatever bore them with folk songs.

Lou could hear the disdain in Father Kemble's voice and was disappointed that his attempts to have a pleasant conversation with the priest wasn't going well at all. Kip drew the cab around a corner and they started up a hill, the church appearing close at hand.

George didn't actually sound disdainful. He had a matter of factly way of speaking about these things. It was a simple fact to him that orphans were better of in an orphanage than outside. Even though it was also a fact that he would prefer not to encounter them. "Are you from Whitby? You don't sound like it?"

That was, he could actually make out what the man was saying.

Lou glanced back, surprised. "Yes, Father, I am," he replied, "born and raised and I've never left. I've seen no reason to, really. My life is simple, but that's alright." Kip gave a snort as they approached the church, confused as to why they were here on a day that wasn't a Sunday, and pawed the ground as Lou drew the cab up to a halt a few feet from the church's front path. He hopped off the cab and tipped his hat at Father Kemble, mentioning politely how much the ride would be. Compared to other nearby places, cab fares in Whitby were cheap, especially Lou's, but as he'd never been outside of this seaside town, he didn't know and so charged a relatively cheap fee for most rides.

"Oh..." said George, in a half-surprised, half-disinterested voice. He took his bag, got out of the carriage and paid the man. He gave him a tip as well, because for some reason he just couldn't figure out, people dislikes him, and he figured he could use some 'friends'. "Well, I will see you on Sunday then," he said, and he made his way over to the presbytery.