"The more reason," he answered. "If you're a Christian and find your neighbour odious, you conciliate him."
"Fiddlesticks!"
"My dear Agatha—isn't that a somewhat strong expression, for you?"
She set down her watering-pot.
"Do you know what I want to say?" she asked. "I want to say,
'Go to blazes!' . . . When I said the woman is odious, do you suppose
I meant odious to me or to you?"
"O-oh!" The Vicar rubbed the back of his head penitently. "I am sorry, Agatha—I was thinking of the time she gave you this afternoon."
"She will give those poor women a worse time—a dreadful time!" said
Mrs Steele, with conviction.
He picked up his watering-pot in such a hurry as to spill a tenth or so of its contents into his shoes; swore under his breath; then laughed aloud.
"I'll bet any money they'll get upsides with her, all the same.
Lord! there may be fun!"
His wife eyed him as he emptied the watering-pot spasmodically over the flowers.