again! Lord save me, I'm a careless old drunkard!" He had any number of
strange phrases that were new and brilliant and exciting to the boy, who
listened to him. He would say, "by the martyrs of Ephesus!" or "Sunshine
and thunder!" or "God stir your slumbers!" when he thought any one very
stupid. He said this last one day to Mrs. Lasher, and of course she was
very much astonished. She did not from the first like him at all. Mr.
Pidgen and Mr. Lasher had been friends at Cambridge and had not met one
another since, and every one knows that that is a dangerous basis for
the renewal of friendship. They had a little dispute on the very
afternoon of Mr. Pidgen's arrival, when Mr. Lasher asked his guest
whether he played golf.

"God preserve my soul! No!" said Mr. Pidgen. Mr. Lasher then explained
that playing golf made one thin, hungry and self-restrained. Mr. Pidgen
said that he did not wish to be the first or last of these, and that he
was always the second, and that golf was turning the fair places of
England into troughs for the moneyed pigs of the Stock Exchange to swill
in.

"My dear Pidgen!" cried Mr. Lasher, "I'm afraid no one could call me a
moneyed pig with any justice--more's the pity--and a game of golf to me
is----"

"Ah! you're a parson, Lasher," said his guest.

In fact, by the evening of the second day of the visit it was obvious
that Clinton St. Mary Vicarage might, very possibly, witness a disturbed
Christmas. It was all very tiresome for poor Mrs. Lasher. On the late
afternoon of Christmas Eve, Hugh heard the stormy conversation that
follows--a conversation that altered the colour and texture of his