'And do not they see that all goes right?'

The giant twisted his huge limbs, as if trying to avoid an answer,
and yet not daring to do so.

'Do clergymen go about among the poor much, sir, at college, before
they are ordained?'

Lancelot smiled, and shook his head.

'I thought so, sir. Our good vicar is like the rest hereabouts.
God knows, he stints neither time nor money--the souls of the poor
are well looked after, and their bodies too--as far as his purse
will go; but that's not far.'

'Is he ill-off, then?'

'The living's worth some forty pounds a year. The great tithes,
they say, are worth better than twelve hundred; but Squire Lavington
has them.'

'Oh, I see!' said Lancelot.

'I'm glad you do, sir, for I don't,' meekly answered Tregarva. 'But
the vicar, sir, he is a kind man, and a good; but the poor don't
understand him, nor he them. He is too learned, sir, and, saving
your presence, too fond of his prayer-book.'

'One can't be too fond of a good thing.'