"What a charming man his lordship is." "You know him ?" asked Mr.Windle in surprise.
"Well--slightly." "He is doing us the honour of dining with us to-day after morning service.

We always dine in the middle of the day on Sundays--only Sundays, of course." "Indeed ?" said the Rev.Samuel, in reference to the first part of Mr.Windle's sentence.
"My wife and I will be pleased if you will come." Mr.Bishop's face twitched with pleasure.

He saw the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with his lordship; of mentioning one or two little alterations in his own parish which he had conceived and approved of, entirely on his own initiative.
"I shall be delighted," he replied--"delighted.

Sixty I think you said ?" he added, as he commenced to pour the wine into the silver altar jug.
"If not more," replied the other, departing to take his place in the Windle family pew.
Mr.Bishop was left in the vestry, apportioning out sixty separate quantities of wine--quantities, which he deemed would be sufficient to seem appreciable to the palates, spiritual and physical, of those for whom they were intended.

You can see him, tilting up the neck of the black bottle sixty consecutive times, with no sense of the ludicrous.