"I agree with you," said the Vicar. "And the clergyman of the parish ought to be the chief friend of his squire, if his squire is of the right sort. Unfortunately, nowadays, he so often isn't."
"But you haven't much to complain about, have you, Mr. Mercer?" enquired Rhoda. "I have always thought you got on so extremely well with the Graftons."
"We have often envied you having such a nice house to run in and out of," said Ethel, "when you told us how welcome they made you. Especially with those pretty girls there," she added archly.
"We've thought sometimes that you were rather inclined to forsake old friends for their sake," said Rhoda.
The Vicar was dragged by two opposing forces. On the one hand he was unwilling to destroy the impression that he was hand in glove with the family of his squire; on the other hand the wounds of vanity needed consolation. But these were old friends and would no doubt understand, and sympathise.
"To tell you the truth they haven't turned out quite as well as I hoped they might at the beginning," he said. "There are a good many things I don't like about them, although in others I am perhaps, as you say, fortunate."
Rhoda and Ethel pricked up their ears. This was as breath to their nostrils.
"Well, now you've said it," said Rhoda, "I'll confess that we have sometimes wondered how long your infatu—your liking for the Graftons would last. They're not at all the sort of people we should care to have living next door to us."
"Far from it," said Ethel. "But, of course, we couldn't say anything as long as they seemed to be so important to you."
"What is there that you particularly object to in them?" asked the Vicar in some surprise. "I thought you did like them when you went over there at first."