At that the Philosophic Tramp became more explicit, and told the Angel the simple story of Sir John Gotch and the kitchen-maid. It's scarcely necessary to repeat it. You may understand that it left the Angel puzzled. It was full of words he did not understand, for the only vehicle of emotion the Tramp possessed was blasphemy. Yet, though their tongues differed so, he could still convey to the Angel some of his own (probably unfounded) persuasion of the injustice and cruelty of life, and of the utter detestableness of Sir John Gotch. The last the Angel saw of him was his dusty black back receding down the lane towards Iping Hanger. A pheasant appeared by the roadside, and the Philosophical Tramp immediately caught up a stone and sent the bird clucking with a viciously accurate shot. Then he disappeared round the corner. MRS JEHORAM'S BREADTH OF VIEW. XXXI "I heard some one playing the fiddle in the Vicarage, as I came by," said Mrs Jehoram, taking her cup of tea from Mrs Mendham. "The Vicar plays," said Mrs Mendham. "I have spoken to George about it, but it's no good. I do not think a Vicar should be allowed to do such things. It's so foreign. But there, _he_ ...." "I know, dear," said Mrs Jehoram. "But I heard the Vicar once at the schoolroom. I don't think this _was_ the Vicar. It was quite clever, some of it, quite smart, you know. And new. I was telling dear Lady Hammergallow this morning. I fancy--" "The lunatic! Very likely. These half-witted people.... My dear, I don't think I shall ever forget that dreadful encounter. Yesterday." "Nor I." "My poor girls! They are too shocked to say a word about it. I was telling dear Lady Ham----" "Quite proper of them. It was _dreadful_, dear. For them." "And now, dear, I want you to tell me frankly--Do you really believe that creature was a man?" "You should have heard the violin." "I still more than half suspect, Jessie ----" Mrs Mendham leant forward as if to whisper. Mrs Jehoram helped herself to cake. "I'm sure no woman could play the violin quite like I heard it played this morning." "Of course, if you say so that settles the matter," said Mrs Mendham. Mrs Jehoram was the autocratic authority in Siddermorton upon all questions of art, music and belles-lettres. Her late husband had been a minor poet. Then Mrs Mendham added a judicial "Still--" "Do you know," said Mrs Jehoram, "I'm half inclined to believe the dear Vicar's story." "How _good_ of you, Jessie," said Mrs Mendham. "But really, I don't think he _could_ have had any one in the Vicarage before that afternoon. I feel sure we should have heard of it. I don't see how a strange cat could come within four miles of Siddermorton without the report coming round to us. The people here gossip so...." "I always distrust the Vicar," said Mrs Mendham. "I know him." "Yes. But the story is plausible. If this Mr Angel were someone very clever and eccentric--"