She looked brightly at him for a moment. “I think you will be guided only by yourself,” she murmured; and, blushing slightly, she nodded and left him to go to another guest.
They were all in the same tale. “He is a rude overbearing man, Mr. Lindo,” Mrs. Hammond said roundly, even her good nature giving place to the odium theologicum. “And I cannot imagine why Mr. Williams put up with him so long.”
“No indeed,” said the archdeacon’s wife, complacently smoothing down her skirt. “But that is the worst of a town parish. You have this sort of people.”
Mrs. Hammond looked for the moment as if she would have liked to deny it. But under the circumstances this was impossible. “I am afraid we have,” she admitted gloomily. “I hope Mr. Lindo will know how to deal with him.”
“I think the archdeacon would,” said the other lady, shaking her head sagely.
But, naturally enough, the archdeacon was more guarded in his expressions. “It is about removing the sheep from the churchyard, is it not?” he said, when he and Lindo happened to be left standing together and the subject came up. “They have been there a long time, you know.”
“That is true, I suppose,” the rector answered. “But,” he continued rather warmly—“you do not approve of their presence there, archdeacon?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Nor do I. And, thinking the removal right, and the responsibility resting upon me, ought I not to undertake it?”
“Possibly,” replied the older man. “But pardon me making a suggestion. Is not the thing of so little importance that you may, with a good conscience, prefer quiet to the trouble of raising it?”