Minnie! here's an opera-glass. How convenient for peeping at the Vicarage!… Yes, it's the man. He is a man. With such a sweet face."
Very unselfishly she allowed her hostess to share the opera-glass. For a minute there was a rustling silence.
"His dress," said Mrs. Mendham, "is quite respectable now."
"Quite," said Mrs. Jehoram.
Pause.
"He looks cross!"
"And his coat is dusty."
"He walks steadily enough," said Mrs. Mendham, "or one might think.… This hot weather…"
Another pause.
"You see, dear," said Mrs. Jehoram, putting down the opera-glass. "What I was going to say was, that possibly he might be a genius in disguise."
"If you can call next door to nothing a disguise."
"No doubt it was eccentric. But I've seen children in little blouses, not at all unlike him. So many clever people are peculiar in their dress and manners. A genius may steal a horse where a bank-clerk may not look over the hedge. Very possibly he's quite well known and laughing at our Arcadian simplicity. And really it wasn't so improper as some of these New Women bicycling costumes. I saw one in one of the Illustrated Papers only a few days ago—the New Budget, I think—quite tights, you know, dear. No—I cling to the genius theory. Especially after the playing. I'm sure the creature is original. Perhaps
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