[With a smile.] Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought it was my welfare you were concerned with. If it’s that of the parish, pray say anything you like.
Vicar.
[Flushing, but not to be put off.] I think it was horrible to go to a music-hall on the very day you had returned from your son’s grave in France. But that was in London, and you outraged nobody but yourself. What you do here is different. This is a very small place, and it’s shameful that you should give parties and go about from house to house playing cards.
Mrs. Poole.
It seems so heartless not to wear mourning.
John.
[Rather flippantly, to prevent the conversation from growing too awkward.] Why? I certainly should hate anyone to wear mourning for me.
Vicar.
You give all and sundry the impression that you’re perfectly callous. What influence do you think such a thing may have on these young fellows in the village who have to risk their lives with all the other brave lads at the front? You take from them the comfort that we at home love them and if they fall will hold their memories gratefully in our hearts for ever.
Mrs. Littlewood.