"Busy as usual, my dear," said the vicar to his wife, as he proceeded to welcome each member of the female bevy in turn, devoting perhaps a little more time than was necessary to handsome Miss Warrender and her cousin.
Mrs. Dodd closed the thick black book with a slap. "I suppose work is over now for the day; you really should not intrude on our Dorcas, John," she said in a severe tone.
"My dear, it is my duty to encourage my parishioners in good works, nay, it is my pleasure," replied the parson.
"No one doubts it, Mr. Dodd," said the vicaress in an icy manner.
But Mrs. Dodd was evidently in a minority. The ladies crowded round their popular vicar. It is easy to spoil a man, and the Reverend John Dodd had been much spoilt by his parishioners, and seemed to like the process.
And now a whispered conference took place between the Misses Sleek. With smiles and conscious blushes, the elder sister addressed the vicar. "Oh, dear Mr. Dodd, we do so want you to do us a favour," she faltered.
"Granted, my dear young lady, granted before it is asked."
Mrs. Dodd vainly sought to fix her husband with a freezing look, and gazed appealingly at old Mrs. Wurzel, but that experienced matron had been present at many similar scenes, and was rather amused than otherwise, to watch the discomfiture of the vicar's imperious wife. Mrs. Wurzel's eagle eye detected the little parcel which the younger Miss Sleek hesitatingly attempted to hold towards the vicar. "It is our own work, dear Mr. Dodd," she said, "and we hope, we do hope, we do so hope that you will accept them."
"And wear them too," chimed in her sister.
In an elaborate box, from which Miss Sleek rapidly tore the paper in which it was wrapped, and hurriedly opened, lay a dozen bands of the latest ecclesiastical fashion.