"Yes, I read it sometimes, but there isn't much to interest me in that."
"But surely, Mr. Fletcher, you must have read there that Hazel Creek and Landsdown Corner were cut off from Glendow over two years ago, and added to the adjoining parish, and are now served by the rector of Tinsborough. They are more accessible to him, and the change has been a good one."
"What! Ye don't tell me!" and Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I never knew that before. The parson never said a word about it."
"Did you ever ask him? Or did you inquire why he never went to those places?"
"No. I thought----"
"I don't want to know what you thought," and the Bishop turned sharply upon him. "Explanations are not needed now. You have proven conclusively that you know nothing about the church affairs in this parish, and care less. According to these registers I find that you never come to Communion and never contribute one cent to the support of the church. But we will let that pass, and consider the next charge made here."
"What, about Uncle Billy?"
"Yes. You know the charge made, and as you signed the petition you must have some substantial proof to bring forth."
Tom twisted uneasily on the chair and twirled his hat in his hands. He was mad at the way the Bishop had cornered him, and at what he had said. But he was also afraid of this man who knew so much and seemed to read his inmost thoughts. He began to dread the questions which he knew would come, and longed to be out of the vestry. He was not feeling so sure of himself and wished he had stayed away.
"The second charge made here," continued the Bishop, "is of a most serious nature. It is to the effect that your rector stole the gold from William Fletcher the night the house was burned, and used some of it to buy a farm. Is that what it means?"