"A most intimate friend, my dear sir," replied Mount Huxtable.
"Dear me!—I thought you told me you didn't know him."
"No, my dear sir, I didn't tell you so: I only gave you to understand that we weren't acquainted."
"That used to be pretty much the same thing," I said, a little chafed with the putting down I had already experienced, "and I suspect you are a great deal more intimate than you were inclined to let us know."
"You have exactly hit upon the reason," he replied. "I was not inclined to let you know; and I have yet to learn that a priest is imperatively required to confess to a layman, however inquisitive or ill-mannered he may be."
"Come, my dear Buddle," said the Doctor, "I think you will see that you ought to apologise."
"For what?" I exclaimed.
"For speaking so irreverently to the pastor of the parish," replied Dr Smiler. "You should consider, sir, that Mr Mount Huxtable is your spiritual guide."
"Certainly," said Araminta; and Christina Smiler grew first red and then pale, and looked at me as if I were a heathen.
I sipped a glass in silence; and the altercation had the unpleasant effect of producing an awkward pause.