"I shall be delighted, if I'm not de trop."
He looked with laughing significance from one to the other.
"I wanted to talk to you about my girls," said Mary.
She had a class of village maidens, to whom she taught sewing, respect for their betters, and other useful things.
"I was just telling Captain Parsons that you were an angel of mercy, Miss Clibborn."
"I'm afraid I'm not that," replied Mary, gravely. "But I try to do my duty."
"Ah!" cried Mr. Dryland, raising his eyes so that he looked exactly like a codfish, "how few of us can say that!"
"I'm seriously distressed about my girls. They live in nasty little cottages, and eat filthy things; they pass their whole lives under the most disgusting conditions, and yet they're happy. I can't get them to see that they ought to be utterly miserable."
"Oh, I know," sighed the curate; "it makes me sad to think of it."
"Surely, if they're happy, you can want nothing better," said James, rather impatiently.