“Ha, ha! So it is. But what is folly to some is wisdom to others. What next? Does old Mother Warboys say I am going to hold wizards’ sabbaths up in the top storey, and ride round on the sails o’ windy nights?”
“Not exactly that, sir,” said Mrs Fidler, looking sadly troubled and perplexed; “but she said she was sure you would be doing something uncanny up there, and she hoped that no evil would descend upon the village in consequence, for she fully expected that we should be smitten for your sins.”
“Did she tell you this?”
“No, sir; she said it to Mr Maxted.”
“Told the vicar?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did he say?”
“She says he insulted her, sir, and that she’ll never go into his church any more. She’s been telling every one so—that he called her a silly, prejudiced old woman.”
“Is that all?”
“It’s all I can remember, sir.”