“Oh, how priceless you’ll both be in the pulpit,” said Michael. “And to-morrow’s Sunday. Which of you will be preaching at Mass?”
“My dear fellow, the Vicar always preaches at Mass. I shall be preaching at Evening Prayer. Why don’t you come to supper in the Clergy House afterward?”
“How do you like your Vicar?”
“Oh, very sound, very sound,” said Chator, shaking his head.
“Does he take the ablutions at the right moment?” asked Michael, twinkling.
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes. He’s very sound. Quite all right. I was afraid at first he was going to be a leetle High Church. But he’s not. Not a bit. We had a procession this June on Corpus Christi. The people liked it. And of course we’ve got the children.”
They talked for an hour of old friends, of Viner, of Dom Cuthbert and Clere Abbey and schooldays, until at last Chator had to be going.
“You will come on Sunday?”
“Of course. But what’s the name of your church?”
“My dear fellow, that shows you haven’t heard your parochial Mass,” said Chator, with mock seriousness. “St. Chad’s is our church.”