Dennis Masterman was tall, square-shouldered and clean-shaven. He regarded himself as somewhat advanced, but had no intention of sowing his opinions upon the parish before the soil was prepared. He considered his character to be large-minded, tolerant, and sane; and for a man of eight-and-twenty he enjoyed fair measure of these virtues. His sister was plain, angular, and four years older than Dennis. She wore double eyeglasses and had a gruff voice and a perceptible beard. The Gollops rose as the vicar and his sister appeared. Miss Gollop was shorter and stouter than her brother, but resembled him. "Good evening, your reverence; good evening, miss," said the parish clerk. "This is my sister, Miss Eliza. For faith, hope, and charity she standeth. In fact, a leading light among us, though I say it as should not." Mr. Masterman shook hands with the woman; his sister bowed only. "And what does Miss Gollop do?" asked Dennis. "'Twould be easier to say what she don't do," answered Thomas. "She's butt-woman to begin with, or as you would call it, 'pew-opener.' Then she's sick-nurse to the parish, and she's midwife, and, when free, she'll do chores or cook for them as want her. And she's got a knowledge and understanding of the people round these parts as won't be beaten. She was Mr. Valletort's right hand, wasn't you, Eliza?" "So he said," answered Miss Gollop. She was not self-conscious, but bore herself as Fame's familiar and one accustomed to admiration. She had estimated the force of the clergyman's character from his first sermon, and judged that her brother would be a match for him. Now she covertly regarded Miss Masterman, and perceived that here must lie any issue of battle that might arise. "Do you abide along with your brother, miss, or be you just settling him into the vicarage?" she asked. "I live with him." Miss Gollop inclined her head. "And I'm sure I hope, if I can serve you any way at any time, as you'll let me know." "Thank you. Everybody can serve us: we want help from one and all," said Mr. Masterman. "Ezacally so!" said Thomas. "And you must larn each man's value from those that know it--not by bitter experience. Likewise with the women. My sister can tell you, to threepence a day, what any female in this parish be good for; and as to the men, you'll do very well to come to me. I know 'em all--old and young--and their characters and their points--good and bad, crooked and odd. For we've got some originals among us, and I'm not going to deny it, haven't us, Eliza?" "Every place have," she said. "Might we sit down?" asked the man. "We'm of the bungy breed, as you see, and not so clever in our breathing as we could wish. But we'm here to go through the whole law and the prophets, so to speak, and we can do it better sitting."