"But really, I don't think he could have had anyone in the Vicarage before that afternoon. I feel sure we should have heard of it. I don't see how a strange cat could come within four miles of Siddermorton without the report coming round to us. The people here gossip so. …"
"I always distrust the Vicar," said Mrs. Mendham. "I know him."
"Yes. But the story is plausible. If this Mr. Angel were someone very clever and eccentric—"
"He would have to be very eccentric to dress as he did. There are degrees and limits, dear."
"But kilts," said Mrs. Jehoram.
"Are all very well in the Highlands …"
Mrs. Jehoram's eyes had rested upon a black speck creeping slowly across a patch of yellowish-green up the hill.
"There he goes," said Mrs. Jehoram, rising, "across the cornfield. I'm sure that's him. I can see the hump. Unless it's a man with a sack. Bless me, Minnie! here's an opera glass. How convenient for peeping at the Vicarage! … Yes, it's the man. He is a man. With such a sweet face."
