"I'm sorry to 'ave to say it, Sir."
"But what…? Dear me! Surely!"
"I'm sorry to 'ave to say it, Sir. But when a party goes turning vegetarian suddenly and putting out all the cooking, and hasn't no proper luggage of his own, and borry's shirts and socks from his 'ost, and don't know no better than to try his knife at peas (as I seed my very self), and goes talking in odd corners to the housemaids, and folds up his napkin after meals, and eats with his fingers at minced veal, and plays the fiddle in the middle of the night keeping everybody awake, and stares and grins at his elders a-getting upstairs, and generally misconducts himself with things that I can scarcely tell you all, one can't help thinking, Sir. Thought is free, Sir, and one can't help coming to one's own conclusions. Besides which, there is talk all over the village about him—what with one thing and another. I know a gentleman when I sees a gentleman, and I know a gentleman when I don't see a gentleman, and me and Susan and George, we've talked it over, being the upper servants, so to speak and experienced, and leaving out that girl Delia who I only hope won't come to any harm through him, and depend upon it, Sir, that Mr. Angel ain't what you think he is, Sir, and the sooner he leaves this house the better."
Mrs. Hinijer ceased abruptly and stood panting but stern, and with her eyes grimly fixed on the Vicar's face.
"Really, Mrs. Hinijer!" said the Vicar, and then, "Oh, Lord!
"What have I done?" said the Vicar, suddenly
256
