d Mrs Pansey, with a toss of her
plumed bonnet. 'How often have I asked you to personally examine into
the drinking and gambling and loose pleasures which make it a Jericho of
sin?'

'Yes, yes, I remember you said something about it when you were at the
palace.'

'Said something about it, my lord; I said everything about it, but now
that you will see it for yourself, I trust you will ask Sir Harry Brace
to shut it up.'

'Dear, dear!' said the bishop, nervously, 'that is an extreme measure.'

'An extreme necessity, rather,' retorted Mrs Pansey, wagging an
admonitory finger; 'do not compound with shameless sin, bishop. The
house is a regular upas tree. It makes the men drunkards'--Mrs Pansey
raised her voice so that the whole neighbourhood might hear--'the women
sluts'--there was an angry murmur from the houses at this term--'and the
children--the children--' Mrs Pansey seized a passing brat. 'Look at
this--this image of the Creator,' and she offered the now weeping child
as an illustration.

Before Dr Pendle could say a word, the door of a near house was flung
violently open, and a blowzy, red-faced young woman pounced out, all on
fire for a fight. She tore the small sinner from the grasp of Mrs
Pansey, and began to scold vigorously. 'Ho indeed, mum! ho indeed! and
would you be pleased to repeat what you're a-talkin' of behind ladies'
backs.'

'Mrs Trumbly! the bishop, woman!'

'No more a woman than yourself, mum; and beggin' his lordship's parding,
I 'opes as he'll tell widders as ain't bin mothers not to poke their
stuck-up noses into what they knows nothing of.'

By this time a crowd was collecting, and evinced lively signs of
pleasure at the prospect of seeing the Bishop of Beorminster as umpire
in a street row. But the bishop had heard quite enough of the affray,
and without mincing matters fled as quickly as his dignity would permit
towards the friendly shelter of The Derby Winner, leaving Mesdames
Pansey and Trumbly in the thick of a wordy war. The first-named lady
held her own for some considerable time, until routed by her
antagonist's superior knowledge of Billingsgate. Then it appeared very
plainly that for once she had met with her match, and she hastily
abandoned the field, pursued by a storm of highly-coloured abuse from
the irate Mrs Trumbly. It was many a long day before Mrs Pansey ventured
into that neighbourhood again; and she ever afterwards referred to it in
terms which a rigid Calvinist us