"But, my dear Mrs. Hill, what has all this to do with Phoebe's gloves?"

"Are you blind, Mr. Hill? Don't you see that they are Limerick gloves?"

"What of that?" said Mr. Hill, still preserving his composure, as it was
his custom to do as long as he could, when he saw his wife was ruffled.

"What of that, Mr. Hill! why, don't you know that Limerick is in Ireland,
Mr. Hill?"

"With all my heart, my dear."

"Yes, and with all your heart, I suppose, Mr. Hill, you would see our
cathedral blown up, some fair day or other, and your own daughter married
to the person that did it; and you a verger, Mr. Hill."

"God forbid!" cried Mr, Hill; and he stopped short and settled his wig.
Presently recovering himself, he added, "But, Mrs. Hill, the cathedral is
not yet blown up; and our Phoebe is not yet married."

"No; but what of that, Mr. Hill? Forewarned is forearmed, as I told you
before your dog was gone; but you would not believe me, and you see how
it turned out in that case; and so it will in this case, you'll see, Mr.
Hill."

"But you puzzle and frighten me out of my wits, Mrs. Hill," said the
verger, again settling his wig. "_In that case and in this case_! I
can't understand a syllable of what you've been saying to me this half-
hour. In plain English, what is there the matter about Phoebe's gloves?"