ith an undisclosed
price, at which he was empowered to make the purchase. Absolute
secrecy was preserved, and, except the Vicar, no one knew the man or
whom he represented; he was to leave the train from Oxford at
Honeybourne Station so as not even to come through Evesham to Badsey.
The Vicar had arranged that the patrons' representative should also
bid on behalf of the aunt, but did not disclose the limit. The man was
not to bid until the Vicar himself stopped, and he was to go on
bidding until the Vicar removed a rose from his button-hole, which
would signify that the aunt's limit was reached. Whether the patrons'
representative could go any further or not, the Vicar did not know.

Before the auction the two did not meet, and they sat apart during the
proceedings. The village malcontent was in great form, making certain
of success, and was delighted when the Vicar apparently gave up
bidding as if beaten. The rose was still in his button-hole, but
before long the aunt's limit was reached, and it had to be removed; he
was however relieved to find that the patrons' representative
continued to bid. His opponent was getting very fidgety as the price
rose, hesitating for some moments every time the bidding was against
him. Just as the hammer was about to fall he would arrest it with,
"Try 'im again," but the stranger instantly capped his reluctant bid,
always leaving him to consider a further advance in great discomfort.
At last in despair but quite certain that the Vicar at any rate was
knocked out he gave up, exclaiming, "'E med 'ave it, 'e med 'ave it";
and the hammer fell. All eyes were fixed upon the unknown bidder, and
the auctioneer demanded "the name of the buyer"; very quietly came the
announcement, "The Dean and Chapter of Christ Church." Horribly
disgusted the malcontent fired a parting shot as he reached the door:
"If I'd a-knowed the pairson was a goin' to 'ave it, I'd a made 'im
pay a pretty penny more nor that."

This Vicar was a very impressive reader, especially of dramatic
stories from the Old Testament. As he read the account of the
discomfiture of the priests of Baal by the Prophet Elijah one could
visualize the scene. Elijah's dripping sacrifice blazing to the skies,
the priests of Baal, mutilated by their own knives and lancets, in
vain imploring their god to send the fire to vindicate himself. The
heavens were black, and one could hear the rush of Ahab's chariot, the
roar of the thunder and the hiss