Here Mrs. Wurzel peered at the vicaress with unfeigned surprise.
"It's not quite fair, you know, to Stacey," said Mrs. Dodd.
How was she to tell them, without mentioning his name, that the man who did not come to the point was the old squire himself, and yet she was anxious to do so?
At this moment the austere parlour maid entered the room. "Squire Warrender is in the drawing-room, madam," she announced. Never in her life had the vicar's wife been guilty of profanity till now, but the opportunity was too golden to be missed.
"Talk of the devil," she said. The four words spoke volumes. Her visitors took their leave, to spread the report over the village and parish of King's Warren.
Mrs. Dodd was a woman who, as we know, did her duty according to her lights. She was determined at all hazards to do her duty now, without flinching, to her sister-in-law, for she had already burnt her ships, and she entered the drawing-room with the deliberate intention of bringing the old squire to the point.
The unsuspecting squire asked for the vicar, after shaking hands with the vicar's wife, and on being informed that his old friend was from home he innocently hoped that the vicar's sister was quite well.
"Ah," said Mrs. Dodd with a sigh, "we're a little concerned about Stacey."
"You should let Pestle see her," replied the sympathizing squire.
Now Dr. Pestle was the parish doctor, and he deservedly enjoyed the confidence of every soul in King's Warren.