"Just like Ogilvie," said Dorward confidentially, when he and Mark went for a walk on the afternoon of his arrival. "He wants spiking up. They get very slack and selfish, these country clergy. Time he gave up Meade Cantorum. He's been here nearly ten years. Too long, nine years too long. Hasn't been to his duties since Easter. Scandalous, you know. I asked him, as soon as I'd explained to the cook about the turbot, when he went last, and he was bored. Nice old pussy cat, the mother. Hullo, is that the _Angelus_? Damn, I knelt on a thistle." "It isn't the _Angelus_," said Mark quietly. "It's the bell on that cow." But Mr. Dorward had finished his devotion before he answered. "I was half way through before you told me. You should have spoken sooner." "Well, I spoke as soon as I could." "Very cunning of Satan," said Dorward meditatively. "Induced a cow to simulate the _Angelus_, and planted a thistle just where I was bound to kneel. Cunning. Cunning. Very cunning. I must go back now and confess to Ogilvie. Good example. Wait a minute, I'll confess to-morrow before Morning Prayer. Very good for Ogilvie's congregation. They're stuffy, very stuffy. It'll shake them. It'll shake Ogilvie too. Are you staying here to-night?" "No, I shall bicycle back to Slowbridge and bicycle over to Mass to-morrow." "Ridiculous. Stay the night. Didn't Ogilvie invite you?" Mark shook his head. "Scandalous lack of hospitality. They're all alike these country clergy. I'm tired of this walk. Let's go back and look after the turbot. Are you a good cook?" "I can boil eggs and that sort of thing," said Mark. "What sort of things? An egg is unique. There's nothing like an egg. Will you serve my Mass on Monday? Saying Mass for Napoleon on Monday." "For whom?" Mark exclaimed. "Napoleon, with a special intention for the conversion of the present government in France. Last Monday I said a Mass for Shakespeare, with a special intention for an improvement in contemporary verse." Mark supposed that Mr. Dorward must be joking, and his expression must have told as much to the priest, who murmured: "Nothing to laugh at. Nothing to laugh at." "No, of course not," said Mark feeling abashed. "But I'm afraid I shouldn't be able to serve you. I've never had any practice." "Perfectly easy. Perfectly easy. I'll give you a book when we get back."