The relation between these two was evidently a very odd one. It was clear that Miss Gladwyn was a spoiled child, though I could not help thinking her very nicely spoiled, as far as I saw; and that the old lady persisted in regarding her as a cub, although her claws had grown quite long enough to be dangerous. Certainly, if things went on thus, it was pretty clear which of them would soon have the upper hand, for grannie was vulnerable, and Pet was not. It really began to look as if there were none but characters in my parish. I began to think it must be the strangest parish in England, and to wonder that I had never heard of it before. “Surely it must be in some story-book at least!” I said to myself. But her grand-daughter’s tiger-cat-play drove the old lady nearer to me. She rose and held out her hand, saying, with some kindness— “Take my advice, my dear Mr Walton, and don’t make too much of your poor, or they’ll soon be too much for you to manage.—Come, Pet: it’s time to go home to lunch.—And for the surplice, take your own way and wear it. _I_ shan’t say anything more about it.” “I will do what I can see to be right in the matter,” I answered as gently as I could; for I did not want to quarrel with her, although I thought her both presumptuous and rude. “I’m on your side, Mr Walton,” said the girl, with a sweet comical smile, as she squeezed my hand once more. I led them to the carriage, and it was with a feeling of relief that I saw it drive off. The old lady certainly was not pleasant. She had a white smooth face over which the skin was drawn tight, gray hair, and rather lurid hazel eyes. I felt a repugnance to her that was hardly to be accounted for by her arrogance to me, or by her superciliousness to the poor; although either would have accounted for much of it. For I confess that I have not yet learned to bear presumption and rudeness with all the patience and forgiveness with which I ought by this time to be able to meet them. And as to the poor, I am afraid I was always in some danger of being a partizan of theirs against the rich; and that a clergyman ought never to be. And indeed the poor rich have more need of the care of the clergyman than the others, seeing it is hardly that the rich shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, and the poor have all the advantage over them in that respect. “Still,” I said to myself, “there must be some good in the woman—she cannot be altogether so hard as she looks, else how should that child dare to take the liberties of a kitten with her? She doesn’t look to ME like one to make game of! However, I shall know a little more about her when I return her call, and I will do my best to keep on good terms with her.”