"You misunderstand me, sir: indeed you do!" Mr. Wright protested.
"Maybe," answered the Rector grimly. "But I happen to be consulting my own choice. Twelve pounds seventeen and sixpence, I think you said? You had best sit down and write out a receipt."
"But why interrupt a man, sir, when he's thinking of higher things, and with his hand 'most too shaky to hold a pen?"
The Rector walked to the window and stood waiting while the receipt was made out: then took the paper, went to the cupboard and filed it, locked the door and resumed his seat.
"Now, sir, let me understand your further business. You desire, I gather, to marry my daughter Mehetabel?"
Mr. Wright gasped and swallowed something in his throat. Put into words, his audacity frightened him. "That's so, sir," he managed to answer.
"Knowing her late conduct?"
"If I didn't," Mr. Wright answered frankly, "I shouldn't ha' been fool enough to come."
"You are a convinced Christian?"
"I go to church off and on, if that's what you mean, sir."