‘No, sir. The river-damps are God’s sending; and so they are not too bad to bear. But there’s more of man’s sending, that is too bad to bear.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are men likely to be healthy when they are worse housed than a pig?’
‘No.’
‘And worse fed than a hound?’
‘Good heavens! No!’
‘Or packed together to sleep, like pilchards in a barrel?’
‘But, my good fellow, do you mean that the labourers here are in that state?’
‘It isn’t far to walk, sir. Perhaps some day, when the May-fly is gone off, and the fish won’t rise awhile, you could walk down and see. I beg your pardon, sir, though, for thinking of such a thing. They are not places fit for gentlemen, that’s certain.’ There was a staid irony in his tone, which Lancelot felt.
‘But the clergyman goes?’