On hearing that the unhappy curate was not a priest of her own Church, but only, as Lucy had expressed it, a heretical Protestant pastor, Fanchette's demeanour changed altogether.
"Ah, gredin, farceur, monsieur est en travesti. Saperlotte," she added, and here she snapped her fingers in the astonished curate's face, and abruptly left the room.
The curate sank into a chair and wiped his brow with his pocket-handkerchief.
"Goodness me, ladies," he said, "what a terrible person! I assure you I didn't mean to exasperate her."
From that day Fanchette ceased her respectful obeisances to the curate, but his visits to The Warren, where he was always a welcome guest, became gradually more frequent.
It is human nature after all ever to strive after the impossible, and Mr. Puffin recognizing in Miss Warrender a young lady who was essentially of the world worldly, naturally determined to attempt her conversion. But the spirit of contrariety is ever strongly developed in the female breast. As the parson became more pertinacious, Miss Warrender, who was at first rather bored than otherwise by his eloquence, resolved upon reprisals.
"I'll bet you a new bonnet," she had said to Haggard, "that I make the Celibate propose to me."
"Not he, my dear," said Georgie's husband with a laugh. "Puffin's not altogether a fool after all; he's got the run of his teeth in this house, and he won't care to lose it by making an ass of himself."
"My dear Miss Warrender, my husband's curate considers himself as vowed to heaven," said Mrs. Dodd, who was present.
"They all do, Mrs. Dodd, till they find metal more attractive. I daresay even Mr. Dodd considered himself at one time as vowed to heaven."