“Yes, perhaps, in some places, but I’m afraid bazaars and things would never go well in Borrowdean. People would not understand about getting them up, or know what to do with them. They have a great idea of getting value for their money.”
“But how do you work your parish, Mr. Davoren? What do you do in it, without any of the usual methods?”
“Oh, I just—potter about. They don’t behave badly as a rule, and I try to make them behave better. I’m always here if any of them want to see me, or want me to visit them. I don’t think they’d care for a parson strolling into their houses as if he had a right to do so. Then there’s the church. Our service is really restful and harmonious. And of course we have a Sunday School.”
“Oh, of course.”
“Then the publican is a tenant of mine and I insist on his selling honest liquor. I also try to stop fellows drinking too much of it.”
“But do you think that the church should countenance the public-house?”
“Oh yes! I think it’s most important to have our public-houses decent, respectable, civilised places. I often drop in to make sure all is well.”
“I am afraid it would be impossible for me, as an abstainer, to do that,” he cried, dissimulating his horror with difficulty.
“Of course. I should not advise you to try. But if I were to become an abstainer, not only should I dislike it very much myself, but nobody would behave any the better for my sacrifice. As it is, some of them do behave better for knowing that I may come in to their public-house for a chat and a glass of beer with them.”
I saw that Snape was not only puzzled but pained by the unfamiliarity of my views, so I hastened to change the subject.