THE TWEEDED GENTLEMAN. How did you arrive at it?
A parlor maid opens the door, ushering in a young clergyman.
THE PARLOR MAID. Mr Haslam. [She withdraws].
The visitor is so very unwelcome that his host forgets to rise; and the two brothers stare at the intruder, quite unable to conceal their dismay. Haslam, who has nothing clerical about him except his collar, and wears a snuff-colored suit, smiles with a frank school-boyishness that makes it impossible to be unkind to him, and explodes into obviously unpremeditated speech.
HASLAM. I'm afraid I'm an awful nuisance. I'm the rector; and I suppose one ought to call on people.
THE TWEEDED GENTLEMAN [in ghostly tones] We're not Church people, you know.
HASLAM. Oh, I don't mind that, if you don't. The Church people here are mostly as dull as ditch-water. I have heard such a lot about you; and there are so jolly few people to talk to. I thought you perhaps wouldn't mind. Do you mind? for of course I'll go like a shot if I'm in the way.
THE CLERICAL GENTLEMAN [rising, disarmed] Sit down, Mr—er?
HASLAM. Haslam.
THE CLERICAL GENTLEMAN. Mr Haslam.