He might glide from condolence into gossip without offence, and the temptation of having Mrs.
Hackit's ear was irresistible.
'What a disgraceful business this is turning out of your parson's,' was the remark with which he made this agreeable transition, throwing himself back in the chair from which he had been leaning towards the patient.
'Eh, dear me!' said Mrs.Hackit, 'disgraceful enough.

I stuck to Mr.
Barton as long as I could, for his wife's sake; but I can't countenance such goings-on.

It's hateful to see that woman coming with 'em to service of a Sunday, and if Mr.Hackit wasn't churchwarden and I didn't think it wrong to forsake one's own parish, I should go to Knebley Church.

There's a many parish'ners as do.' 'I used to think Barton was only a fool,' observed Mr.Pilgrim, in a tone which implied that he was conscious of having been weakly charitable.

'I thought he was imposed upon and led away by those people when they first came.