‘What excellent grammar, and what still more excellent humility!’ cried Florence. Florence was, it must be allowed, a little bitter. Jim’s acquaintance with the curate had gone on increasing daily. It had done him a great deal of good--in one way. The doors of the ‘Blue Boar’ were closed to him: he went there no longer. He thought of the vet. and Simpkinson, the landlord, with a sort of horror, asking himself whether it was true that he had actually sought their society. It had been in pure vacancy he knew now, and because there was no other to be had. But yet he had persuaded himself that they were very good fellows, and that to make acquaintance with their ways of thinking was a good thing, and expanded his knowledge of life and the world. He had all the fervour now of a new convert in respect to the superiority of his present surroundings, but still was pleased with the thought that it was Mr. Osborne who had sought him, and not he who had sought Mr. Osborne. The curate had thus fulfilled towards him all, and more than all, that Florence had ventured to suggest. In making Jim believe that it was pure liking that attracted him, Mr. Osborne had bettered the prayer that had been made to him. Had he done it for her sake?--who could tell? If it was so, it was a transfer complete and thorough, for he had never approached Florence, never spoken to her when he could avoid it, never looked at her since that day. He said, ‘How do you do, Miss Plowden?’ as if he had never known more of them than from a chance meeting in the village street, when he met the sisters. Not even his anxiety about his entertainment broke down the barrier he had raised between himself and the girl to whom he had all but offered his heart and life. ‘What is the matter with Mr. Osborne?’ Emmy had asked of her sister, in consternation, for it is needless to say that Florry’s sister and constant companion had been well enough aware of the previous state of affairs. Florence had not answered the question, but she had preserved her composure, which was a great thing, and had thus led her sister to believe that, whatever the matter was, it was a temporary one. Mrs. Plowden, too, had put a similar question, but had herself answered it in the most satisfactory way. ‘What has become of Mr. Osborne?’ she said, and then replied to herself, ‘I suppose since he sees so much of Jim at his own place, he doesn’t think it worth his while to come here. It isn’t perhaps very civil to the rest of us; but what does it matter to any of us? and it is quite an advantage to Jim. I am sure he may be as rude to me as he likes; if he is nice to Jim, what do I care?’