“Hush, dear, hush,” said Mrs. Gervase, “it’s all too shocking to be a laughing matter. Don’t you agree with me, Mrs. Dixon? The sinful extravagance that went on at Pentre always _frightened_ me. You remember that ball they gave last year? Mr. Gervase assured me that the champagne must have cost _at least_ a hundred and fifty shillings the dozen.” “It’s dreadful, isn’t it,” said Mrs. Dixon, “when one thinks of how many poor people there are who would be thankful for a crust of bread?” “Yes, Mrs. Dixon,” Agatha joined in, “and you know how absurdly the Vaughans spoilt the cottagers. Oh, it was really wicked; one would think Mr. Vaughan wished to make them above their station. Edith and I went for a walk one day nearly as far as Pentre, and we begged a glass of water of old Mrs. Jones who lives in that pretty cottage near the brook. She began praising the Vaughans in the most fulsome manner, and showed us some flannel things they had given her at Christmas. I assure you, my dear Mrs. Dixon, the flannel was the very best quality; no lady could wish for better. It couldn’t have cost less than half-a-crown a yard.” “I know, my dear, I know. Mr. Dixon always said it couldn’t last. How often I have heard him say that the Vaughans were pauperizing all the common people about Pentre, and putting every one else in a most unpleasant position. Even from a worldly point of view it was very poor taste on their part. So different from the _true_ charity that Paul speaks of.” “I only wish they had given away nothing worse than flannel,” said Miss Colley, a young lady of very strict views. “But I assure you there was a perfect orgy, I can call it nothing else, every Christmas. Great joints of prime beef, and barrels of strong beer, and snuff and tobacco distributed wholesale; as if the poor wanted to be encouraged in their disgusting habits. It was really impossible to go through the village for weeks after; the whole place was poisoned with the fumes of horrid tobacco pipes.” “Well, we see how that sort of thing ends,” said Mrs. Dixon, summing up judicially. “We had intended to call, but I really think it would be impossible after what Mrs. Gervase has told us. The idea of Mr. Vaughan trying to sponge on poor Mr. Gervase in that shabby way! I think meanness of that kind is so hateful.”