“We call ’em the Bougheys, you know,” said the wicked little parson, in a disgustingly confidential tone, “in affectionate remembrance of that noble idiot over the way. ’Comes here every fortnight now to get Grace’s opinion as to what marl he should put on his wickets in the winter, and whether in her opinion grass seeds are superior to new turf, or _vice versa_. She’s a sister to him, his step-sister, his sister-in-law, his deceased wife’s sister, his aunt, his grandmother, his niece, his cousin, his second cousin; and our dear, delightful Grace now spends her time in inventing new relationships, as she’s quite used up the Prayer-book. Last time he came she promised to be his Prussian cousin. I don’t doubt that in the end she’ll be his murderess. Isn’t it a pity that the English aristocracy has no sense of humour? And from what that man Comfort told me at lunch, I rather fear that Dimsdale is also to have an attack of incipient dam silliness.” “It’s coming; I can feel it,” said I, with brazen effrontery. “Brown holland’s kept me awake all night; and the encouraging part of it is, I feel as though I shall never sleep again until I’ve converted myself into a form of common amusement.” “Well, here’s my sympathy, old man,” said Charlie, hurling a missile at me, which I mistakenly thought was nothing more serious than a loofah. But the moment it crashed against my cheek-bone I suddenly arrived at the conclusion that there must be a cake of brown Windsor carefully wrapped inside it. It is rather a pity that I don’t wield the pen of Truthful James, considering what transpired when I mistakenly attempted to discuss the matter with the man who had thrown the soap. But as Charlie had the brute force of a bullock, and didn’t know his strength, in less than a minute I was very sorry that I had chosen to grapple with him. Had it not been that the Rev. Mr. Elphinstone, who was really a most intrepid little man, used his feet and elbows freely, at the crucial moment, on the best bowler in England’s sacred person, I should have been killed undoubtedly. When the interested bystanders had repaired these breaches of the peace by a liberal application of cold water and hard epithets, the bell summoned us to dinner. We were in no position to obey it, however, until I had borrowed a collar from Charlie to replace the one that he had torn in two, and until my brave friend, the little parson, had changed his shirt, as the one that now adorned him had been exceeding mutilated. Charlie himself, who was as hard as steel, and wiry as a mustang, was much as he was before this lamentable affair, except that he was now breathing through his mouth instead of through his nose.