“No, dear Padre,” said Miss Mapp, showing her gums. At least, I’ve heard nothing of any interest. I can only give you the news of my garden. Such lovely new roses in bloom to-day, bless them!”
Mrs. Plaistow had popped into the stationer’s, so this perjury was undetected.
The Padre was noted for his diplomacy. Just now he wanted to convey the impression that nothing which could happen next Saturday or Sunday could be of the smallest interest to him; whereas he had spent an almost sleepless night in wondering whether it would, in certain circumstances, be proper to make a bow at the beginning of his sermon and another at the end; whether he ought to meet the visitor at the west door; whether the mayor ought to be told, and whether there ought to be special psalms.…
“Well, lady fair,” he said. “Gossip will have it that ye Prince of Wales is staying at Ardingly for the Sunday; indeed, he will, I suppose, pass through Tilling on Saturday afternoon—”
Miss Mapp put her forefinger to her forehead, as if trying to recollect something.
“Yes, now somebody did tell me that,” she said. “Major Flint, I believe. But when you asked for news I thought you meant something that really interested me. Yes, Padre?”
“Aweel, if he comes to service on Sunday—?”
“Dear Padre, I’m sure he’ll hear a very good sermon. Oh, I see what you mean! Whether you ought to have any special hymn? Don’t ask poor little me! Mrs. Poppit, I’m sure, would tell you. She knows all about courts and etiquette.”
Diva popped out of the stationer’s at this moment.
