‘Plowden,’ said the curate.
‘Yes?’
‘I wonder if you’d be dreadfully offended if I asked you one thing?’
‘I am not very peppery,’ said Jim; ‘fire away?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I will, but you will be angry, I fear. It is just this. When you feel these things so, more than most people—more,’ he added, with a naïve surprise, ‘than I do myself; how is it, you know—that—I don’t want to offend you—how is it that——’
Jim’s countenance grew deeply red, a cloud came over it for a moment; then he shook his head as if to shake off any consideration of such questions. ‘I say, don’t ask me that kind of conundrum. I’m not good at guessing things,’ he said. ‘Will the “Ride” do?’
‘The “Ride” will do capitally,’ said the curate. He too shook off with a flush the questions which had risen involuntarily to his lips. He was grateful to Jim for passing it over, for neither taking offence in words nor jumping up and breaking off the conference. ‘What sort of people do you think will come,’ he said, ‘since you seem to have experience of these things?’
‘Oh!’ said Jim, ‘a number of the village people will come—the daughters of the tradespeople, and those shifting folks that live in Pleasant Place, and a number of the “gentry”—the General——’
Mr. Osborne made a sign of impatience and dissatisfaction.
‘Don’t you want the gentry to come? But the others like it. I assure you they do. Mrs. White and Mrs. Slaughter will not come, they are too grand. They’re able to pay for their pleasure when they make up their minds to go out.’