Flutter on, happy clerical butterfly, your bliss will be of short duration; for that careful entomologist, Miss Lucy Warrender, is already preparing the sharp needle that shall transfix your little triumphant heart.
Puffin, as he passed through the village, returned the many salutations he received with joyous bows, and the wiseacres noticed that his broad brimmed clerical hat was now worn with a triumphant cock.
CHAPTER IX.
MR. PUFFIN HUNTS A BUTTERFLY.
The Reverend John Dodd had been more than satisfied with his new curate. At first the long cassock, the flowing robes, and the rather eccentric "make up" of the man had been a daily outrage to the vicar's idea of decency. Mr. Puffin was not the first curate in the vicar's experience who had sought notoriety by a fantastic dress; but Mr. Puffin worked hard in the parish, Mr. Puffin was eloquent, and the vicar felt certain that the Established Church in King's Warren was gaining ground. He was rather gratified than otherwise to hear that Mr. Puffin had begun to waver in his ideas about celibacy. Puffin as an engaged man might be somewhat less divine, but he would be assuredly more human. Dodd himself didn't see why Mr. Puffin should not become the husband of Miss Warrender. Puffin was a clergyman, and a gentleman; and the Reverend John Dodd rubbed his hands as he thought of the inevitable struggle for mastery which would take place between the pair should the marriage ever come off. And after all, more unlikely things than this marriage had happened. Miss Warrender certainly had had her fling, but a girl can't go on having her fling for ever, and the vicar chuckled as he thought of Lucy as the Celibate's wife. Unconsciously perhaps the curate had assumed an air of superiority to his vicar, for as a Celibate he would naturally look down upon him as a being of a coarser clay, a mere earthen pot; but this had only amused his good-natured chief, and the Reverend John Dodd smiled as he thought of the gentle vengeance he might have, when the enamoured Puffin should take him into his confidence.
He sat down to dinner in the best of tempers. When he perceived that he was to be regaled with a veal sweetbread with brown sauce, his eyes were lighted up with a merry twinkle. But he felt that there was something in the wind; he knew that that delectable propitiatory sacrifice was only offered to his critical palate on his birthday, when his wife was in a particularly good temper, or when she had a favour to ask. As he looked at the partner of his earthly joys, it was plainly apparent to him that Mrs. Dodd was ruffled; it was not his birthday, so he had a second helping of the delicacy and made up his mind to yield to the inevitable demand with the best possible grace. But not till they were alone did his wife unbosom herself.
"John," she said, "I've come to the conclusion that Mr. Puffin must leave us; a curate ceases to be of use in a parish the moment he makes himself ridiculous, and Mr. Puffin tells me that he is determined to make a fool of himself. I could have passed over his peculiarities, John," she said, "and his eccentricities in dress; I could even have forgiven his long hair, in consideration of the immense amount of work he manages to get through; but he is about to render himself unsuitable. I approve of ambition in a clergyman; my dear father is an ambitious man, and he has prospered, though not perhaps according to his great deserts; but worldly ambition, the thirst for gold, is unbecoming in a clergyman. To my mind, it is painfully apparent that Mr. Puffin, who ought to be actuated by far higher motives, is prepared to sacrifice himself to Lucy Warrender, who is a most objectionable young person, in order to secure at some future time the presentation to the living of King's Warren."