“Yes, That’s the reason we were in such a terrific hurry.”
“Quite so,” I said. “I was a little surprised at first to see you galloping, but now I understand.”
“Would it,” said Lalage, “be simony to cheek an Archdeacon?”
“It might. It very well might. Is that what you’ve done, Hilda?”
“I didn’t,” said Hilda.
“You did, just as much as me,” said Lalage, “and it was to you he said it, so he evidently meant you. Not that either of us did cheek him really.”
“Why didn’t you ask your father?” I said. “He’s a Canon and he’d be almost sure to know.”
“I didn’t like to speak to him about it until I knew what it was. It might turn out to be something that I wouldn’t care to talk to him about, something—you know the kind of thing I mean.”
“Improper?”
“Not quite so bad as that, but the same sort.”