In another moment the pig was a captive.

Alice and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of a table that had had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their prey stood the startled members of a parish society for making clothes for the poor heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of.

They were reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarry to earth under their table.

Even as he crossed the threshold I heard something about 'black brothers being already white to the harvest'.

All the ladies had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while the curate read aloud to them.