“Yes, poor fellow, his young wife is dead; that is why he makes his love into the Holy Ghost.”
They were halfway down their first cup of tea when they heard the sluther of pit-boots.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Morel, in spite of herself.
The minister looked rather scared. Morel entered. He was feeling rather savage. He nodded a “How d’yer do” to the clergyman, who rose to shake hands with him.
