"Well, then, what life does he lead?" cried Chloe.
"A life of wholesome labour, of silent communion with the earth—a life devoid of frivolity and devoted to meditation and sheep and bees and things of that kind."
The conclusion was a little vague, but the intention to praise was obvious, and Chloe was deeply interested.
"Meditation, sheep, bees," she repeated—"isn't all that what is called small culture?"
"Oh, indeed, there is nothing small about James Bush!" exclaimed Mrs. Verulam. "Oh no! He is immense, powerful, calm! He is my idea of Agag!"
The faithful Marriner again glanced up. The word "Anak" trembled upon her well-informed lips, but respect for her mistress held her mum. Only a slight rustle betrayed the thrill of deep learning that ran through her.
"Really!" said Chloe. "Go on, dear."
"I met James Bush in the country at a time when I was just beginning fully to feel the emptiness of society."
"Emptiness! Oh, how can you!"
"I remember our first meeting so well," Mrs. Verulam continued with a soft rapture of romance. "He came towards me with his head in a sort of meat-safe, holding in his strong hands the lid of a saucepan, upon which he beat with a wooden spoon with all his might and main."