d, moreover, the Doctor, as we have said before, was over fifty years of
age. But there soon came up another ground on which calumny could found a
story. It was certainly the case that Mrs. Peacocke had never accepted
any hospitality from Mrs. Wortle or other ladies in the neighbourhood. It
reached the ears of Mrs. Stantiloup, first, that the ladies had called
upon each other, as ladies are wont to do who intend to cultivate a mutual
personal acquaintance, and then that Mrs. Wortle had asked Mrs. Peacocke
to dinner. But Mrs. Peacocke had refused not only that invitation, but
subsequent invitations to the less ceremonious form of tea-drinking.

All this had been true, and it had been true also,--though of this Mrs.
Stantiloup had not heard the particulars,--that Mrs. Peacocke had
explained to her neighbour that she did not intend to put herself on a
visiting footing with any one. "But why not, my dear?" Mrs. Wortle had
said, urged to the argument by precepts from her husband. "Why should you
make yourself desolate here, when we shall be so glad to have you?" "It
is part of my life that it must be so," Mrs. Peacocke had answered. "I am
quite sure that the duties I have undertaken are becoming a lady; but I do
not think that they are becoming to one who either gives or accepts
entertainments."

There had been something of the same kind between the Doctor and Mr.
Peacocke. "Why the mischief shouldn't you and your wife come and eat a
bit of mutton, and drink a glass of wine, over at the Rectory, like any
other decent people?" I never believed that accusation against the Doctor
in regard to swearing; but he was no doubt addicted to expletives in
conversation, and might perhaps have indulged in a strong word or two, had
he not been prevented by the sanctity of his orders. "Perhaps I ought to
say," replied Mr. Peacocke, "because we are not like any other decent
people." Then he went on to explain his meaning. Decent people, he
thought, in regard to social intercourse, are those who are able to give
and take with ease among each other. He had fallen into a position in
which neither he nor his wife could give anything, and from which, though
some might be willing to accept him, he would be accepted only, as it
were, by special favour. "Bosh!" ejaculated the Doctor. Mr. Peacocke
simply smiled. He said it might be bosh, but that even were he inclined
to relax his own views, his wife would certainly not relax hers.