, retreating from
him openly, going from the house to the mill as soon as he appeared,
never speaking to him, and taking no other notice of him beyond a
slight touch of the hat. "Your husband is still angry with me," he
said one day to Mrs. Brattle. She shook her head and smiled sadly,
and said that it would pass over some day,--only that Jacob was so
persistent. With Sam, the Vicar held little or no communication.
Sam in these days never went to church, and though he worked at the
mill pretty constantly, he would absent himself from the village
occasionally for a day or two together, and tell no one where he had
been.

The strangest and most important piece of business going on at
this time in Bullhampton was the building of a new chapel or
tabernacle,--the people called it a Salem,--for Mr. Puddleham. The
first word as to the erection reached Mr. Fenwick's ears from Grimes,
the builder and carpenter, who, meeting him in Bullhampton Street,
pointed out to him a bit of spare ground just opposite the vicarage
gates,--a morsel of a green on which no building had ever yet stood,
and told him that the Marquis had given it for a chapel. "Indeed,"
said Fenwick. "I hope it may be convenient and large enough for them.
All the same, I wish it had been a little farther from my gate." This
he said in a cheery tone, showing thereby considerable presence of
mind. That such a building should be so placed was a trial to him,
and he knew at once that the spot must have been selected to annoy
him. Doubtless, the land in question was the property of the Marquis
of Trowbridge. When he came to think of it, he had no doubt on
the matter. Nevertheless, the small semi-circular piece of grass
immediately opposite to his own swinging gate, looked to all the
world as though it were an appendage of the Vicarage. A cottage
built there would have been offensive; but a staring brick Methodist
chapel, with the word Salem inserted in large letters over the door,
would, as he was aware, flout him every time he left or entered his
garden. He had always been specially careful to avoid any semblance
of a quarrel with the Methodist minister, and had in every way shown
his willingness to regard Mr. Puddleham's flock as being equal to his
own in the general gifts of civilisation. To Mr. Puddleham himself,
he had been very civil, sending him fruit and vegetables out of
the Vicarage garden, and lending him newspapers. When the little
Puddlehams were born, Mr