"We old ones"--Mrs. Ramshorn bridled a little: she was only
fifty-seven!--"have had our turn, and theirs is come," said the rector
rather inconsequently.

"And a pretty mess they are like to make of it!--what with infidelity
and blasphemy--I must say it--blasphemy!--Really you must do something,
Mr. Bevis. Things have arrived at such a pass that, I give you my word,
reflections not a few are made upon the rector for committing his flock
to the care of such a wolf--a fox _I_ call him."

"To-morrow I shall hear him preach," said the parson.

"Then I sincerely trust no one will give him warning of your intention:
he is so clever, he would throw dust in any body's eyes."

The rector laughed. He had no overweening estimate of his own abilities,
but he did pride himself a little on his common sense.

"But," the lady went on, "in a place like this, where every body talks,
I fear the chance is small against his hearing of your arrival. Anyhow I
would not have you trust to one sermon. He will say just the opposite
the next. He contradicts himself incredibly. Even in the same sermon I
have heard him say things diametrically opposite."

"He can not have gone so far as to advocate the real presence: a rumor
of that has reached me," said the rector.

"There it is!" cried Mrs. Ramshorn. "If you had asked me, I should have
said he insisted the holy eucharist meant neither more nor less than any