"They were pretty keen-set, too, by one o'clock, bein' used to eat
their dinners at noon sharp. One o'clock comes--no Bishop: two
o'clock and still no Bishop. 'There's been a naccydent,' says the
Missus: 'but thank the Lord the vittles is cold!' 'Maybe he've forgot
the day,' says the Vicar; 'but any way, we'll give en another
ha'f-hour's grace an' then set-to,' says he, takin' pity on the
noises old Truslove was makin' inside his weskit. . . . So said, so
done. At two-thirty--service bein' fixed for ha'f-after-three--they
all fell to work.
"You d'know, I dare say, what a craze the Missus have a-took o' late
against the drinkin' habit. Sally, the parlourmaid, told me as how,
first along, th' old lady set out by hintin' that the Bishop, bein' a
respecter o' conscience, wouldn' look for anything stronger on the
table than home-brewed lemonade. But there the Vicar struck; and
findin' no way to shake him, she made terms by outin' with two
bottles o' wine that, to her scandal, she'd rummaged out from a
cupboard o' young Master Dick's since he went back to Oxford College.
She decanted 'em [chuckle], an' th' old Vicar allowed, havin' tasted
the stuff, that--though he had lost the run o' wine lately, an' didn'
reckernise whether 'twas port or what-not--seemin' to him 'twas a
sound wine and fit for any gentleman's table.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71