'Who ever told you you were an authority on chasubles?' demanded the vicar.
'That's all right who told me,' rejoined the bishop.
'I don't believe you know what a chasuble is.'
'Is that so?'
'Well, what is it, then?'
'It's a circular cloak hanging from the shoulders, elaborately embroidered with a pattern and with orphreys. And you can argue as much as you like, young Pieface, but you can't get away from the fact that there are too many orphreys on yours. And what I'm telling you is that you've jolly well got to switch off a few of these orphreys or you'll get it in the neck.'
The vicar's eyes glittered furiously.
'Is that so?' he said. 'Well, I just won't, so there! And it's like your cheek coming here and trying to high-hat me. You seem to have forgotten that I knew you when you were an inky-faced kid at school, and that, if I liked, I could tell the world one or two things about you which would probably amuse it.'
'My past is an open book.'
'Is it?' The vicar laughed malevolently. 'Who put the white mouse in the French master's desk?'