"I suppose it's quite a business down here,--goin' to church, eh?" he queried--"Sort of excitement like--only bit of fun you've got-- helps to keep you all alive! That's the country way, but Lord bless you!--in town we're not taking any!" Bainton looked up,--and Mr. Netlips loosened his collar and lifted his head, as though preparing himself for another flow of 'cohesion' eloquence. Farmer Thorpe turned his bull-neck slowly round, and brought his eyes to bear on the speaker. "How d'ye make that out, Mr. Bennett?" he demanded. "Doan't ye sarve the A'mighty same in town as in country?" "Not a bit of it!" replied Bennett airily--"You're a long way behind the times, Mr. Thorpe!--you are indeed, beggin' your pardon for sayin' so! The 'best' people have given up the Almighty altogether, owing to recent scientific discoveries. They've taken to the Almighty Dollar instead which no science can do away with. And Sundays aren't used any more for church-going, except among the middle-class population,--they're just Bridge days with OUR set-- Bridge lunches, Bridge suppers,--every Sunday's chock full of engagements to 'Bridge,' right through the 'season.'" "That's cards, ain't it?" enquired Dan Ridley. "Just so! Harmless cards!" rejoined Bennett--"Only you can chuck away a few thousands or so on 'em if you like!" Mr. Netlips here pushed aside his emptied ale-glass and raised his fat head unctuously out of his stiff shirt-collar. "Are we to understand," he began ponderously, "that Miss Vancourt is addicted to this fashion of procrastinating the Lord's Day?" Bennett straightened his dapper figure suddenly. "Now don't you put yourself out, Mr. Netlips, don't, that's a good feller!" he said in sarcastically soothing tones--"There's no elections going on just at present--when there is you can bring your best leg foremost, and rant away for all you're worth! My lady don't gamble, if that's what you mean,--though she's always with the swagger set, and likely so to remain. But you keep up your spirits!- -your groceries 'ull be paid for all right!--she don't run up no bills--so don't you fear, cards or no cards! And as for procrastinating the Lord's Day, whatever that may be, I could name to you the folks what does worse than play Bridge on Sundays. And who are they? Why the clergymen theirselves! And how does they do worse? Why by tellin' lies as fast as they can stick! They says we're all going to heaven if we're good,--and they don't know nothing about it,--and we're all going to hell if we're bad, and they don't know nothing about that neither! I tell you, as I told you at first, in town we've got beyond all that stuff--we're just not taking any!" He paused, and there was a deep silence, while he drank off his second glass of ale. The thoughts of every man present were apparently too deep for words.