Forthwith he related at length the affair of the night before: how he had been stoned by a dozen hulking scoundrels on the common.

When he came to the end of it, he looked round for sympathy.
His audience wore a strained rather than sympathetic air, all of them except the higher mathematician who had turned away and was coughing violently.
The vicar broke the silence; he said: "Er--er--yes; most extraordinary.
But I don't think it could have been the villagers.

They're--er--very peaceful people." "It must have been some rowdies from Rowington," said the squire in the loud tone of a man trying to persuade his hearers that he believed what he said.
Erebus rose and walked to the gravel path; their eyes fixed in an incredulous unwinking stare.
She picked up three pebbles from the path, choosing them with some care.

The first pebble hit the weathercock, which rose above the right gable of the house, plumb in the middle; the second missed its tail by a couple of inches; the third hit its tail, and the weathercock spun round as if a vigorous gale were devoting itself to its tail only.
"That's where I meant to hit it the first time," said Erebus with a little explanatory wave of her hand; and she returned to her seat.
The silence that fell was oppressive.

Captain Baster gazed earnestly at Erebus, his roving black eyes fixed in an incredulous unwinking stare.
"That shows you the danger of jumping to hasty conclusions," said the higher mathematician in his clear agreeable voice.