"You wanted to see Mrs. Rossmore about the festival," she said.
"Oh, of course, I had quite forgotten. How stupid of me. The fact is, Mrs. Rossmore," he went on, "we are thinking of giving a festival next week—a festival with strawberries—and our trustees thought, in fact it occurred to me also that if you and Mr. Rossmore would grace the occasion with your presence it would give us an opportunity—so to speak—get better acquainted, and er—"
Another awkward pause followed during which he sought inspiration by gazing fixedly in the fireplace. Then turning on Mrs. Rossmore so suddenly that the poor woman nearly jumped out of her chair he asked:
"Do you like strawberries?"
"It's very kind of you," interrupted Mrs. Rossmore, glad of the opportunity to get a word in edgeways. "Indeed, I appreciate your kindness most keenly but my husband and I go nowhere, nowhere at all. You see we have met with reverses and—"
"Reverses," echoed the clerical visitor, with difficulty keeping his seat. This was the very thing he had come to find out and here it was actually thrown at him. He congratulated himself on his cleverness in having inspired so much confidence and thought with glee of his triumph when he returned with the full story to the Lady Trustees. Simulating, therefore, the deepest sympathy he tried to draw his hostess out:
"Dear me, how sad! You met with reverses."
Turning to his sister, who was sitting in her corner like a petrified mummy, he added:
"Jane, do you hear? How inexpressibly sad! They have met with reverses!"
He paused, hoping that Mrs. Rossmore would go on to explain just what their reverses had been, but she was silent. As a gentle hint he said softly: