"Good-day! ah, yes, it is a charming day, is it not. The blue of the sky, with the lark singing so delightfully. You know Shelley's poem do you not--Yes--Turner might paint that scene. Puts me in mind of his Vale of Health, and this place by the way, is very healthy--plenty of oxygen in the air for weak lungs. Ah--ah, my heart swells with goodness towards the Creator of all things as I drink in the air. I think I saw you coming out of Belk's cottage, Mrs. Belswin!"
"Yes! I went in there to rest for a few minutes."
"A great contrast, mother and son, Mrs. Belswin. The Witch of Endor and Apollo, the Far Darter. Yes! but a touching instance of parental affection, for she is devoted to her son. A devotion of which I regret to say he's not worthy, Mrs. Belswin, not worthy, my dear lady. He never comes to church. Passes his time in public-houses, and at wrestling matches, and horse-races. A most godless young man."
"But surely Sir Rupert objects to this conduct?"
"He does not know, Mrs. Belswin. Belk, in a rough fashion, is crafty, very crafty, but when the baronet returns I have no doubt he will hear from others of the behaviour of this misguided young man. I deem it my duty," continued Mr. Gelthrip, inflating his chest, "to inform Sir Rupert of his servant's misdeeds."
"I don't think I would do that," said Mrs. Belswin, drily. "Sir Rupert does not care about his private business being meddled with."
"Ah, you know Sir Rupert then?"
Mrs. Belswin bit her lip in vexation, for she saw that she had made a mistake, and at once hastened to put herself right in the eyes of this tale-bearer.
"No! of course not. I only speak from hearsay."
"Sir Rupert," said the curate in a dogmatic fashion, "does not, I believe, care about the church, therefore, as you say, he may resent my interference, but I would not be doing my duty as a clergyman if I did not warn him of the dissipated ways of his bailiff."