The Rector knew better than to inquire the nature of the iniquity. Mrs. Blewitt believed in remembering her servants’ offences and expected this belief to be shared. He assumed an aggravated look.
“How very trying,” he said, playing for safety. “I should say to her that the next time she does it——”
“Does what?” said his wife.
The Rector started guiltily.
“I understood you to say, my dear,” he faltered, “that she was still doing it.”
“So she is,” said his wife.
The Reverend Purdoe Blewitt put a hand to his head.
“It’s not nice of her,” he said, blindly endeavouring to avoid collision. “Not at all nice. I mean——”
Here he observed that his wife was surveying him with a profound contempt, and quailed accordingly.
The appearance of a pert parlourmaid postponed his chastisement.