"The Bishop can't know what an impossible sort of creature he is," he said. "I am not at all sure that it isn't my duty to tell him. In all my life I've never seen anybody so absolutely unfitted to take charge of a parish. The idea of his having the audacity to tell me that he didn't believe in regimenting people. That was a hit at me and my work, of course. All that I have done here for years past is to be thrown away, and the parish turned into a bear garden, for a young idiot like that to disport himself in." "He is evidently very gay and lively by nature," she said, "and of course he is pleased at coming here. I think that half of what he said was only meant in fun, and evidently he relies a great deal upon her for all the business side of his work." "She is no better than he is," snapped the Vicar. "Fancy a woman like that going about among the people, and them knowing the way in which they are going to live here. If she _does_ go about among the people! But I should think it's more likely that they will both spend most of their time at the Abbey, sponging on the Graftons, and trying to get in with all the big houses around. You can see they are nobodies--not a shilling to bless themselves with. No doubt it is a great thing for them to get into a neighbourhood like this, and they'll make the most of it." He went on for some time in this fashion, but his wife did not answer him, and when he had run himself down a little and looked at her, he saw that she was softly crying. He came to a stop in front of her and said awkwardly, "What's the matter? It's dreadful to think of things going to rack and ruin in a place where we've worked so hard and done so much; but _we_ shall be out of it at any rate. Don't upset yourself, Gertrude." She dried her eyes. "I was thinking how happy they both were," she said. "We were pleased too when we first came here and looked forward to living in this nice house." He resumed his pacing of the room. "So we shall be where we are going," he said, "and we are looking forward to a life of useful active service, and not to the ramshackle unuseful life that those two are going to live." "They have left a great many friends behind them where they have been living," she said, "and they will make a great many friends here. We shall leave hardly a single friend, after fifteen years, and if we make new ones where we are going to, I'm afraid we shan't keep them. Oh, why can't you think more kindly of people, Albert? We see everybody around us making friends and helping each other, and we are left out of it all. The people we have quarrelled with can't all of them always be in the wrong, and we always in the right."