Mr. Burnham was the clergyman of both families. He had recently come to the place, was a well-set up bachelor, and represented a communion which was not by any means the dominant one in Bordershire.
"Yes, indeedy. It was under the elm. Us was having tea. An' Mist'r Burnham, he was having tea. And father and Prissy. And, oh! such a lot of peoples. And he sez, Mist'r Burnham sez to Hugh John, 'You are good little boy. I saw you in church on Sunday. Do you like to go to church?' He spoke like this-a-way, juss like I'm tellin' oo, down here under his silk waistcoat—kind of growly, but nice."
"Hugh John say that he liked to go to church—'cos father was there listenin', you see. Then Mist'r Burnham ask Hugh John why he like to go to church, and of course, he say wight out that it was to look at Sergeant Steel's wed coat. An' nen everybody laugh—I don't know why. But Mist'r Burnham he laughed most."
Cissy also failed to understand why everybody should have laughed. Toady Lion took up the burden of his tale.
"Yes, indeedy, and one Sunday I didn't have to go to church—'cos I'd yet up such a yot of gween gooseb——"
"All right, Toady Lion, I know!" interrupted Cissy quickly.
"Of gween gooseberries," persisted Toady Lion calmly; "so I had got my tummy on in front. It hurted like—well, like when you get sand down 'oo trowsies. Did 'oo ever get sand in 'oo trowsies, Cissy?"
"Hush—of course not!" said Cissy Carter; "girls don't have trowsers—they have——"
But any injudicious revelations on Cissy's part were stopped by Toady Lion, who said, "No, should juss fink not. Girls is too great softs to have trowsies.