’I bethought I might do that, sir, when I came along.  Yeander was in the shop, and I said, Mrs. Jones having gone to see her son, that you’d ’ave no one, so I just says to Yeander, “I’ll step round, an’ if I’m asked I’ll make tea."’

The curate lit his lamp and poked his fire, and the portly woman began to toast his muffins.  The flame lit up the placid wrinkles of her face as she knelt before it: 

‘But I don’t think Miss Violetta is in the least like her mother,’ said he again.

‘Lor’ sir, don’t you?  Well, you ought to know best.  They do say what’s bred in the bone comes out in the flesh; but it’ll be none the worse for you if she looks sharp after the spending.  You’re not much given to saving.’

The curate walked nervously up and down his small room.

‘Make the tea strong to-night,’ he said.

’Mr. Higgs, the verger, do hate the vicar’s lady, sir—­he do, and no mistake—­but he says anybody could see with ’alf a heye that she was a real saint.  The subscriptions she puts down to missions and church restorings—­it’s quite wonderful.’

The curate ran his hand wearily through his hair.  He felt called upon to say something.  ‘I have the highest respect for Mrs. Moore,’ he began.  ’I know her to be a most devoted helpmeet to the vicar, and a truly good woman.  At the same time’—­he coughed—­’at the same time, I should wish to say distinctly that after being niggardly in her domestic affairs, which is unfortunately the case, I do not think it adds to her stock of Christian virtues to give the money thus saved to church work.’

The curate cleared his throat.  It was because he was flying from himself that he had let the woman talk until this speech of his had been made necessary; but at all times his humble friends in this town were well nigh irrepressible in their talk.  This woman was in full tide now.

’They do say, sir, there’s a difference between honest saving and greed.  Mr. Higgs said to Yeander one day, says he, “Mrs. Moore’s folks far back made their money by sharp trading, and greed’s in the family, and it’s the worst sort of greed, for it grasps both at ’eaven and earth, both at this life and the ’eavenly.  And,” says he, “no one could doubt that the lady’s that way constituted that she couldn’t cut a loaf of bread in ’alf without giving herself the largest share, even if it were the bread of life."’

‘My good Mrs. Yeander——­’ began the curate in stern rebuke.

’Oh, no, sir, Mr. Higgs don’t mean no harm.  He only gets that riled at Mrs. Moore sometimes that he kind of lets off to Yeander and me.’

‘And I don’t think, Mrs. Yeander,’ said the curate, for the third time, ‘that Miss Violetta is at all like her mother.’

‘She’s young yet, sir,’ said the woman.  Then she went away, leaving the curate to interpret her last remark as he chose.

CHAPTER II