If I didn't go to church I shouldn't have bought that hat. All
right, Mr. Church,' I said, as I drove by it, shakin' my fist at the
steeple, 'I'll be even with you yet'; and I shouted it out loud."

"I should have thought your wife had more to do with it than the
Church," I interposed.

"Of course she had--in a plain sense o' speakin'," said the farmer. "But
then your wife's your wife, especially when she's a good 'un, and the
Church is the Church. Some men might ha' rounded on Sally; but I told
her before we were married that the first bad word I gave her would be
the answer to one she gave me. That's eight-and-twenty year ago, and we
haven't begun yet. But where was I? Oh, I was tellin' you what I said to
the church. You can guess what a rage I was in from my gettin' such a'
idea into my 'ead."

"No other reason?" I asked.

"Not a drop," replied Perryman; "for I suppose that's what you mean. No,
sir, I give it up once and for all ever since that time when Mrs. Abel
followed me to Crawley Races. Ay, and the best day's work she ever
did--and that's sayin' a good deal, I can tell you. I can see her just
as she was. She were drivin' a little blood-mare as she'd bought o'
me--one as I'd bred myself--for I were more in 'osses than sheep in them
days--and Mrs. Abel were allus a lady as knowed a good 'oss when she see
it. And there was Snarley Bob, in his Sunday clothes, sittin' on the
seat behind. She'd got a little blue bonnet on, as suited her to a T,
and were lookin' like a----"

"Tell him about that some other time," said Mrs. Perryman; "if you go on
at this rate you'll never get finished with the story about your hat."

"Hats isn't everything," said the farmer; "but if hats is what you want
to hear about, hats is what I'll talk on."

Mrs. Perryman looked at me with a glance which seemed to say that, even
though hats weren't everything, we had better stick to them on the
present occasion. I interpreted the glance by saying to the farmer, "Go
on about the hat. We can have the other next time." Mrs. Perryman seemed
relieved, and her husband continued:

"Well, next mornin' bein' Sunday, the missis managed to get her way, and
off we sails to church--she in a silk dress, and me in a box-hat. We was
twenty minutes before time, for I didn't want people to see us; but,
just as we were crossing the churchyard, who should we meet but the
parson and his lady? Know our parson? You're right: he's not only good,
but good all