"Caught in the act by 'is wife! Oh lor', oh lor'! 'Is wife! An' _aint_ she a tartar!" "But how did all this happen ?" asked Helmsley, amused.
"Why, this way, David--quite 'appy an' innocent like, Missis Arbroath, she opens a letter from 'ome, which 'avin' glanced at the envelope casual-like she thinks was beggin' or mothers' meetin', an' there she finds it all out.

Vicar's fav'rite gel writin' for money or clothes or summat, an' endin' up 'Yer own darlin'!' Ha-ha-ha-he-he-he! Oh Lord! There was an earthquake up at the rect'ry this marnin'-- the cook there sez she never 'eerd sich a row in all 'er life--an' Missis Arbroath she was a-shriekin' for a divorce at the top of 'er voice! It's a small place, Weircombe Rect'ry, an' a woman can't shriek an' 'owl in it without bein' 'eerd.

So both the cook an' 'ousemaid worn't by no manner o' means surprised when Mister Arbroath packed 'is bag an' went off in a trap to Minehead--an' we'll be left with a cheap curate in charge of our pore souls! Ha-ha-ha! But 'e's a decent little chap,--an' there'll be no 'igh falutin' services with _'im_, so we can all go to Church next Sunday comfortable.

An' as for old Arbroath, we'll be seein' big 'edlines in the papers by and by about 'Scandalous Conduck of a Clergyman with 'is Fav'rite Gel!'" Here he made an effort to pull a grave face, but it was no use,--his broad smile beamed out once more despite himself.

"Arter all," he said, chuckling, "the two things does fit in nicely together an' nat'ral like--'Igh Jinks an' a fav'rite gel!" It was impossible not to derive a sense of fun from his shining eyes and beaming countenance, and Angus Reay gave himself up to the enjoyment of the moment, and laughed again and again.
"So you think he's gone altogether, eh ?" he said, when he could speak.
"Oh, 'e's gone all right!" rejoined Twitt placidly.