But the Vicar’s wife was past speech.
“Poor creature!” said Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald in an effort to restore the atmosphere, “poor dumb creature.”
She put out her hand to stroke Maria and Maria very neatly bit her elbow.
The Vicar’s wife arose from the dust and wearily but determinedly led Maria through the gate on to the Vicarage lawn. The Outlaws came cautiously up the hill and watched proceedings through the Vicarage gate.
The members of the local Anti-vivisection Society stood round Maria and gazed at her. A close observer might have noticed that their glances held less affection and pity than they had held a short time before.
“It doesn’t seem at all—er—cowed,” said Mrs. Hopkins at last. “It seems quite—er as—fresh.... And it hasn’t any wounds or anything.”
“Sometimes,” said Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald, “they just use them for diseases. They just inject disease germs into them.”
“Do you mean,” said Mrs. Hopkins, turning pale, “that it may be infected with a deadly disease?”
“Quite possibly,” said Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald.
They looked at the Vicar’s wife for advice and help. And again the Vicar’s wife showed her capacities for dealing with a crisis. Though still dusty and shaken from her inglorious career up the hill at Maria’s heels she took command of affairs once more.