Mrs. Burlacombe--Very convenient things, sick mothers. Mr.
Strangway doesn't know?

MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think.
For all he'm so moony an' gentlelike, I think he'm a terrible
passionate man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but
'tes only 'alf-baked, in a manner of spakin'.

MRS. BRADMERE. I shall go and see Mrs. Freman. There's been too
much of this gossip all the winter.

MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman
he'm a gipsy sort of a feller; and he've never forgiven Mr. Strangway
for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses.

MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet when
his feelings are touched.

MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'E've a-got an 'eart so big as the full mune. But
'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place,
after that.

MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, Mrs. Burlacombe; and I shall give some of these
good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity.
For all they look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they're
an un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE]
It's lucky we've some hold over the village. I'm not going to have
scandal. I shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will
take steps.