"I shouldn't wonder. And your cook's just as bad. She asked me yesterday if I liked jugged hare. 'Let me see your jug,' said I, 'and then I'll tell you.' And as sure's I'm a sinner, she told me she never used one for that dish!"
"Now you speak of it," said his Lordship, "I don't think I ever saw one myself. But what are you doing this morning?"
"Straightening the peas."
"Straightening the peas?" he asked, thoroughly mystified.
"Yes, they're all waggly. When I plant my garden I take a string and two pegs and plant the seed along a line; but these just seem to be put in anyhow."
"Is it good for the peas?" asked the Bishop suspiciously, as he saw them being rooted up and reset.
"I can't say," she returned sharply. "But things ought to be straight at an episcopal palace, if they are anywhere."
"So they should," he admitted mournfully, "but it's far from being the case. That's why I came out to consult you."
"Go ahead, then. You talk, and I'll dig."
And while the plants were being arranged to an ecclesiastical standard, he retailed to her the charges against Violet.