d swift-footed from the glory of his presence.
To use a vigorous American phrase, they made themselves scarce.

The good bishop was amused and rather amazed by this universal
scattering, for it was his wish to be loved rather than feared. He was
in a decidedly benign frame of mind, as on that very morning he had
received a letter from his wife stating that she was coming home within
a few days, much benefited by the Nauheim baths. This latter piece of
intelligence particularly pleased the bishop, as he judged thereby that
his wife would be better able to endure the news of her first husband's
untimely re-appearance. Dr Pendle was anxious that she should know all
at once, so that he could marry her again as speedily as possible, and
thereby put an end to an uncomfortable and dangerous state of things.
Thus reflecting and thus deciding, the bishop descended the stony street
in his usual stately manner, and even patted the heads of one or two
stray urchins, who smiled in his face with all the confidence of
childhood. Afterwards, the mothers of those especial children were
offensively proud at this episcopal blessing, and had 'words' with less
fortunate mothers in consequence. Out of such slight events can
dissensions arise.

As Dr Pendle neared The Derby Winner he was unlucky enough to encounter
Mrs Pansey, who was that afternoon harassing the neighbourhood with one
of her parochial visitations. She carried a black bag stuffed with
bundles of badly-printed, badly-written tracts, and was distributing
this dry fodder as food for Christian souls, along with a quantity of
advice and reproof. The men swore, the women wept, the children
scrambled out of the way when Mrs Pansey swooped down like a black
vulture; and when the bishop chanced upon her he looked round as though
he wished to follow the grateful example of the vanishing population.
But Mrs Pansey gave him no chance. She blocked the way, spread out her
hands to signify pleasure, and, without greeting the bishop, bellowed
out in pretty loud tones, 'At last! at last! and not before you are
needed, Dr Pendle.'

'Am I needed?' asked the mystified bishop, mildly.

'The Derby Winner!' was all that Mrs Pansey vouchsafed in the way of an
explanation, and cast a glance over her shoulder at the public-house.

'The Derby Winner,' repeated Dr Pendle, reddening, as he wondered if
this busybody guessed his errand. 'I am now on my way there.'

'I am glad to hear it, bishop!' sai