"To-morrow I shall hear him preach," said the parson. "Then I sincerely trust no one will give him warning of your intention: he is so clever, he would throw dust in any body's eyes." The rector laughed. He had no overweening estimate of his own abilities, but he did pride himself a little on his common sense. "But," the lady went on, "in a place like this, where every body talks, I fear the chance is small against his hearing of your arrival. Anyhow I would not have you trust to one sermon. He will say just the opposite the next. He contradicts himself incredibly. Even in the same sermon I have heard him say things diametrically opposite." "He can not have gone so far as to advocate the real presence: a rumor of that has reached me," said the rector. "There it is!" cried Mrs. Ramshorn. "If you had asked me, I should have said he insisted the holy eucharist meant neither more nor less than any other meal to which some said a grace. The man has not an atom of consistency in his nature. He will say and unsay as fast as one sentence can follow the other, and if you tax him with it, he will support both sides: at least, that is my experience with him. I speak as I find him." "What then would you have me do?" said the rector. "The straightforward way would doubtless be to go to him." "You would, I fear, gain nothing by that. He is so specious! The only safe way is to dismiss him without giving a reason. Otherwise, he will certainly prove you in the wrong. Don't take my word. Get the opinion of your church-wardens. Every body knows he has made an atheist of poor Faber. It is sadder than I have words to say. He _was_ such a gentlemanly fellow!"