I suppose that never in Merchester's long history had her citizens so frequently or so nervously studied their weather-glasses.
"Tarbolt, of all people!" murmured Brother Copas one afternoon in the Venables Free Library.
He had just met the Canon coming down the stairs, and turned to watch the retreating figure to the doorway.
"I am suffering from a severe shock," he announced five minutes later to Mr. Simeon, whom he found at work in Paradise. "Did you ever know your friend Tarbolt patronise this institution before?"
"Never," answered Mr. Simeon, flushing.
"Well, I met him on the stairs just now. For a moment I knew not which alternative to choose—whether your desertion had driven him to the extreme course of reading a book or two for himself, or he had come desperately in search of you to promise that if you returned, all should be forgiven.… No, you need not look alarmed. He came in search of a newspaper."
"But there are no newspapers in the Library."
"Quite so: he has just made that discovery. Thereupon, since an animal of that breed cannot go anywhere without leaving his scent behind him, he has scrawled himself over half a page of the Suggestion' Book. He wants this Library to take in The Times newspaper, 'if only for the sake of its foreign correspondence and its admirable weather-charts.' Signed, 'J. Tarbolt.' What part is the humbug sustaining, that so depends on the weather?"
"He takes Bishop Henry of Blois in the Fourth Episode. He wears a suit of complete armour, and you cannot conceive how much it—it—improves him. I helped him to try it on the other day," Mr. Simeon explained with a smile.
"Maybe," suggested Brother Copas, "he fears the effect of rain upon his 'h's.'"