hand-in-glove with the Pope. I tell you I saw the pair meet this
very Wednesday down by the bridge as I happened to be lookin' out
waitin' to scold the milk-boy: and they shook hands and stood for
up-three-minutes colloguin' together."

When these two ladies joined forces to attack Mr Hambly on the
subject of Nicky-Nan's atheism, presumed upon his neglect to attend
public worship, the Minister's lack of interest became fairly
exasperating. He arose and opened the window.

"Astonishing plague of house-flies we are suffering from this year,"
he observed. "You have noticed it, doubtless? . .. Yes, yes--about
Nanjivell . . . it is so good of you to feel concerned. I will talk
it over with the Vicar."

"God forbid!" Mrs Polsue ejaculated.

"One uses up fly-papers almost faster than Mrs Pengelly can supply
them," continued the Minister. "And, moreover, she will sell me but
two or three at a time, alleging that she requires all her stock for
her own shop. I fell back last week upon treacle. Beer, in small
glass jars, is also recommended. I trust that if you ladies see me
issuing from the Three Pilchards to-morrow with a jug of beer, you
will make it your business to protect my character. The purchase
will not escape your knowledge, I feel sure. . . . But we were
talking of Nanjivell. I have some reason to believe that he is a
God-fearing man, though his religion does not take a--er--
congregational turn. Moreover, he is a sick man."

"H'mph!" Miss Oliver sniffed.