Mrs Glaire sighed and made comparisons between Daisy Banks and the wicked little pullet who had caused all this strife, telling herself that she was to be congratulated on having but one son, and wishing that he were married, settled, and happy. She had decided that she would have the vicar up to dinner that night, and intended to make him her confidant and ally; and accordingly in the evening, while the conversation narrated in the last chapter was going on, the object of it was making his way to the house, getting a friendly nod here and there, and stopping for a minute's chat with the people whose acquaintance he had made. As a rule they were moody faces he met with amongst the women, for they were more than usually soured at the present time on account of the strike, and the sight of the black coat and white tie was not a pleasant one to them, and the replies to his salute were generally sulky and constrained. He fared better with the men, in spite of Mr Simeon Slee's utterances, for the report had gone round and round again that Parson could fight, and the church militant, from this point of view, was one that seemed to them worthy of respect. So he went slowly along the main street, past Mr Purley, the doctor's, as that gentleman, just returned from a round, was unwedging himself from his gig. "How do, parson, how do?" he said. "Like a ride with me to-morrow?" "Well, yes, if you'll get out your four-wheeler," said the vicar, laughing. "Going up to the house to dinner, parson?" "Yes." "Tell Mrs Glaire I'll be on in ten minutes," said the doctor. "But I say, parson, don't sit on the rubber of whist." "Doctor," said the vicar, patting him on the shoulder, "I shall not; but bring an extra sovereign or two with you, for I want to win a little money to-night for some of my poor." "He's a rum one," muttered the doctor, as he went in. "He's a rum one, that he is; but I don't think he's bad at bottom." Meanwhile the vicar went on, past Ramson and Tomson's the grocers and drapers, where silks and sugars, taffetas and tea were displayed in close proximity; and although Ramson and Tomson were deacons at the Independent Chapel, and the old vicar had passed them always without a look, a friendly nod was exchanged now, to the great disgust of Miss Primgeon, the lawyer's maiden sister, a lady who passed her time at her window, and who, not being asked to the little dinner she knew was to be held at the house, was in anything but the best of tempers that evening. Richard Glaire was not aware of his mother's arrangement, and his face wore anything but a pleasant expression as he confronted the vicar in the hall, having himself only just come in. "How do, Mr Selwood, how do?" he said haughtily, as he took out his watch and paid no heed to the extended hand. "Just going to dinner; would you mind calling again?"