“What excuse did she make, Henry?” she said.
“I—er—I beg your pardon, Beatrice?”
“I say, what excuse did she make? Really, her conduct is very, strange.”
“Excuse? Oh, of course, about her visitor,” said the vicar absently. “I er—I—on second consideration thought it would be better to ignore the matter. Perhaps she was not to blame.”
“Henry!”
“Beatrice, my dear,” said the vicar quietly, “I always abstain from having refreshments in the vestry, but the morning service is long and I feel faint. Let us go home to lunch.”
Miss Beatrice had the first rule over the vicarage, her elder sister the second rule, and generally speaking, the vicar let them have matters entirely their own way; still, there were times when he took the reins in his own hands, and then it was dangerous to interfere.
This was one of the times when the vicar showed that he had a will of his own, and consequently the sisters exchanged glances and said no more.