On the Saturday evening, as they sat round the fire in the Credence Chamber, Edith asked Aunt Joyce if old Dr Cox were still parson of Minster Lovel.
“Nay,” said she; “I would he were. We have a new lord and new laws, the which do commonly go together.”
“What manner of lord?” inquired Edith.
“And what make of laws?” said Temperance.
“Bad, the pair of them,” said the old lady.
“Why, is he a gamester or drunkard?” asked Lady Louvaine.
“Or a dumb dog that cannot bark?” suggested Temperance.
“Well, I’d fain have him a bit dumber,” was Aunt Joyce’s answer. “At least, I wish he’d dance a bit less.”
“Dance!” cried Edith.
“Well!” said Aunt Joyce, “what else can you call it, when a man measures his steps, goes two steps up and bows, then two steps down and bows, then up again one step, with a great courtesy, and holds up his hands as if he were astonished—when there’s nothing in the world to astonish him except his own foolish antics?”