And then presently, when the servant had poured out some hock for him, he addressed Mrs. Marsden again.
"May I advert to a practice that has fallen into disuse, and drink a glass of wine with you?... To our better acquaintance, Mrs. Marsden;" and he bowed in quite a pleasant old-world style.
"Bravo, governor," said Charles. "Fill, and fill again. Nothing like toasts to keep the bottle moving."
"Yes, I'm sure," said the vicar's wife, with patronising urbanity; "so very pleased to make your acquaintance—at last, don't you know. We only saw one another at the wedding." And while Charles and Mrs. Bulford took alternate parts in the telling of an anecdote, she continued to talk to Mrs. Marsden. "Of course I have known you in your public capacity for years. My girls and I have always been devoted to Thompson's. 'Get it at Thompson's'—that's what they always said." She was honestly trying to be agreeable. Indeed she particularly wished to please. "All my girls said it. Is it not so, Emily?... She does not hear. She is too much amused by her brother's story.... But that was always the cry. 'Get it at Thompson's!' And I'm sure we never failed at Thompson's."
"Oh, shut up, Pontius," said Mrs. Bulford, loudly. "You're spoiling the point. Let me go on by myself."
"Yes, that's what you often say—but you're glad to have me ahead of you when you think there's wire about."
"Will you be quiet, Pontius?"
And Mrs. Bulford was allowed to finish the anecdote in her own way. Then she suffocated, and Charles cackled; but no one else, not even Mrs. Kenion, could see the point of the little tale.
The local curate, a shy, pink-complexioned young man, had scarcely talked at all; but now he was endeavouring to make a little polite conversation with Enid. He said he hoped the church would be found quite warm; he had given orders that the hot-water apparatus should be set working in good time; and he thought they were, moreover, fortunate to have such genial bright weather. Sometimes April days proved treacherously cold. Then he inquired if the godfather was to be present at the ceremony.
"No," said Charles, answering for his wife. "I am to be proctor—proxy—what d'ye call it?—for Jack Gascoigne, a pal of mine.... You must teach me the business, Mrs. B."