(the forbidden topic!) was not
suited for a clergyman's wife, that she hated useful work. Perhaps that
was why I liked her so much. She never bored me. These women--!

"They are as kind as angels. I'm going to run my pen through the above.

"I've got in a piano--you know my weakness for strumming? My landlady's
daughter shares that weakness. I hear the piano begin before I reach
the garden gate, I hear it shut with a bang as I come in at the door.
Waltzes, played very quick, and galops with the loud pedal down and an
impromptu bass. Her mother suggested to me that Cissy should come in
and play to me in the evenings sometimes. I did not exactly jump at the
offer, and Mrs Bust, to remove a possible objection in my mind,
explained that of course she had not intended to leave her daughter
_alone_ with me; she herself could bring her sewing and chaperon her,
she said.

"I am beginning to dread my meals because this good woman waits on me.
I have begged to be allowed to pour out my own glass of beer and to
reach my own salt-cellar. No use.

"Mrs Carter, an influential parishioner, living at a nice place called
The Lawns (I haven't counted how many there are of them, but have
noticed a few yards of grass-plot at the side of the house), said to me
the other day that she believed I was a woman-hater. I had encountered
fifteen of them at her house and was in a desperate mood. I said I was.
I thought I was safe with Mrs Carter. I've met each one of that fifteen
since, and she has in every case stopped to say to me--'Oh, I hear
you're a woman-hater!' They all seemed to be mightily pleased. It put
me in a stupid position. I managed to say something civil to each; but
I have a bone to pick with Mrs Carter! She is always poking her fun at
every one, and wants to know if I don't make an exception in favour of
Jessica.

"Jessica!!

"She and I get on together, however. So we need; for she is an ardent
worker in the parish, and morn and noon and dewy eve are she and I
thrown together. Often, when I think to have an hour to myself for
reading or writing, she comes to my room and sits over the fire with
me, her petticoats carefully lifted, her feet on the fender--I am
tempted to wish her at Jericho; but she is a good sort....

* * * * *

"5_th December_.

"Many thanks for your brilliant suggestion. Very thoughtful of you.
Jessica is not in