It was well known by Mrs. Johnson’s intimate friends, and by these three men amongst them, that she had never felt happy or at home with the well-born and wealthy sheep of her husband’s flock—those sheep who stood in every worldly consideration so very high above their shepherd. Her poverty, her many children, and her many cares had always prevented her from visiting them on terms of anything like equality; while her own upbringing as a gentlewoman, made their patronage, however good-natured, very galling to her. And, perhaps, none of them had ever been so careworn themselves or so troubled as to be able to approach her as a friend. It was, at least, whosesoever the fault might be, a certain thing that Mrs. Johnson did not ‘get on’ with her richer neighbours, and that many of them considered her unbending, unreasonable, and disagreeable. There was probably ground for both opinions. Her brusqueness and utter unwillingness to receive any kind of favours annoyed them, while to have them step from their carriages into her shabby house, and coldly behold the bareness of the domestic territory, exasperated and humiliated her at the same time. Perhaps, as a matter of fact, their hearts were better than their manners; certainly, this was the case with Mrs. Johnson herself; but neither of them could see the good in the other side. ‘Miss Askam didn’t patronise her, then?’ said Roger. ‘Well, no, or you may be sure she would not have been sitting in the midst of them in that fashion. It seems Johnson insisted that his wife should call upon Miss Askam soon after she came. He said Otho’s goings on were nothing to them, and they had no right to assume that Miss Askam would be anything but delighted to receive the wife of her parish priest. So Mrs. Johnson put on her best gown and went, sorely against her will, having made up her mind to find a female edition of Otho. You may judge of her relief at what she did find.’ ‘I don’t see how we can be expected to enter into the fulness of Mrs. Johnson’s joy, seeing that we don’t know Miss Askam. And why she should have assumed that——’ ‘Botheration to you and your assumptions! Will you let me tell my own tale in my own way, and don’t be a prig. Mrs. Johnson found, as she said, a simple, unassuming young lady, as unpretentious as if she had lived in a four-roomed cottage. She seemed downright glad to see Mrs. Johnson, and made her have tea, and asked her about the children; and, above all, she didn’t offer to send her home in the carriage.’ (Roger gave vent to a short, sardonic laugh. He had a powerful, insane objection to Ada’s being ‘sent home in the carriage’ from Balder Hall.) ‘But she did put on her things and walk half the way home with her. She asked if she might go and see the children. Of course Mrs. Johnson gave a few particulars about their establishment, which seems to me to have been highly unnecessary——’