"People who are gay and bright in disposition are the very ones who—who pine for a little excitement at times," said the courageous canon. "There is so much to be seen and done and heard in London. For instance, as you say—she is passionately fond of music."
"She gets plenty. We get more than enough," said Miss Crewys, grimly.
"I mean good music;" then he recollected himself in alarm. "No, no; I don't mean hers is not charming, and Mr. John's playing is delightful, but—"
"There is an organ in the parish church," said Miss Crewys, crocheting more busily than ever. "I have heard no complaints of the choir. Have you?"
"No, no; but—besides music, there are so many other things," he said dismally. "She likes pictures, too."
"It does not look like it, canon," said Lady Belstone, sorrowfully. She waved her handkerchief towards the panelled walls. "She has removed the family portraits to the lumber-room."
"At least the Vandyck has never been seen to greater advantage," said the canon, hopefully; "and I hear the gallery upstairs has been restored and supported, to render it safe to walk upon, which will enable you to take pleasure in the fine pictures there."
"I am sadly afraid that it is not pictures that poor Mary hankers after, but theatres," said Miss Crewys. "John has persuaded her, if persuasion was needed, which I take leave to doubt, that there is nothing improper in visiting such places. My dear brother thought otherwise."
"You know I do not share your opinions on that point," said the canon.
"Though not much of a theatre-goer myself, still—"
"A widow at the theatre!" said Lady Belstone. "Even in the admiral's lifetime I did not go. Being a sailor, and not a clergyman," she added sternly, "he frequented such places of amusement. But he said he could not have enjoyed a ballet properly with me looking on. His feelings were singularly delicate." "I am afraid people must be talking about dear Mary a good deal, canon," said Miss Crewys, whisking a ball of wool from the floor to her knee with much dexterity.