“They say Eliza Wotnot’s had a bad week of it with one thing and another. They say she be as yellow as a lemon-pip in her body, as you might call it, and grey as ash-heaps in her old face. I never cared for the woman myself, and I don’t gather as she was desperate liked in the village, but a Christian’s a Christian when they be laid low in the Lord’s pleasure, though they be as surly-tongued as Satan.” “I know, I know,” said the clergyman impatiently. “They say Mr. Taxater sits up with her night after night as if he was a trained nurse. Why he don’t have a nurse I can’t think, ’cept it be some papist practice. The poor gentleman will be getting woeful thin, if this goes on. He’s not one for losing his sleep and his regular meals.” “Sally Birch is doing all that for him, Mrs. Fringe,” said Clavering. “I have seen to it myself.” “Sally Birch knows as much about cooking a gentleman’s meals as my Lottie, and that’s not saying a great deal.” “Thank you, Mrs. Fringe, thank you,” said Clavering. “You need not move the table.” “Oh, of course, ’tis Miss Gladys’ lesson-day. They say she’s given young Mr. Ilminster the go-by, sir. ’Tis strange and wonderful how some people be made by the holy Lord to have their whole blessed pleasure in this world. Providence do love the ones as loves themselves, and those that seeks what they want shall find it! I expect, between ourselves, sir, the young lady have got someone else in her eye. They tell me some great thundering swell from London is staying in the House.” “That’ll do, Mrs. Fringe, that’ll do. You can leave those flowers a little longer.” “I ought to let you know, sir, that old Jimmy Pringle has gone off wandering again. I saw Witch-Bessie at his door when I went to the shop this morning and she told me he was talking and talking, as badly as ever he did. Far gone, poor old sinner, Witch-Bessie said he was.” “He is a religious minded man, I believe, at bottom,” said the clergyman. “He be stark mad, sir, if that’s what you mean! As to the rest, they say his carryings on with that harlotry down in Yeoborough was a disgrace to a Christian country.” “I know,” said Clavering, “I know, but we all have our temptations, Mrs. Fringe.” “Temptations, sir?” and the sandy complexioned female snorted with contempt. “And is those as takes no drop of liquor, and looks at no man edge-ways, though their own lawful partner be a stiff corpse of seven years’ burying, to be put in the same class with them as goes rampaging with harlotries?” “He has repented, Mrs. Fringe, he has repented. He told me so himself when I met him last week.”