ave a-took o' late
against the drinkin' habit. Sally, the parlourmaid, told me as how,
first along, th' old lady set out by hintin' that the Bishop, bein' a
respecter o' conscience, wouldn' look for anything stronger on the
table than home-brewed lemonade. But there the Vicar struck; and
findin' no way to shake him, she made terms by outin' with two
bottles o' wine that, to her scandal, she'd rummaged out from a
cupboard o' young Master Dick's since he went back to Oxford College.
She decanted 'em [chuckle], an' th' old Vicar allowed, havin' tasted
the stuff, that--though he had lost the run o' wine lately, an' didn'
reckernise whether 'twas port or what-not--seemin' to him 'twas a
sound wine and fit for any gentleman's table. 'Well, at any rate,'
says the Missus, 'my boy shall be spared the temptation: an' I hope
'tis no sign he's betaken hisself to secret drinkin'!'

"Well, then, it was decanted: an' Hancock and Truslove, nothin'
doubtful, begun to lap it up like so much milk--the Vicar helpin',
and the Missus rather encouragin' than not, to the extent o' the
first decanter; thinkin' that 'twas good riddance to the stuff and
that if the Bishop turned up, he wouldn't look, as a holy man, for
more than ha'f a bottle. I'm tellin' it you as Sally told it to me.
She says that everything went on as easy as eggs in a nest until she
started to hand round the sweets, and all of a sudden she didn' know
what was happenin' at table, nor whether she was on her head or her
heels. . . . All I can tell you, sir, is that me and Battershall"--
Battershall is the vicarage gardener, stableman, and factotum--"was
waitin' in the stables, wonderin' when in the deuce the Bishop would
turn up, when we heard the whistle blown from the kitchen: which was
the signal. Out we ran; an' there to be sure was the Bishop comin'
down the drive in a hired trap. But between him and the house--
slap-bang, as you might say, in the middle of the lawn--was our two
Churchwardens, stripped mother-naked to the waist, and sparring: and
from the window just over the porch th' old Missus screaming out to
us to separate 'em. No, nor that wasn't the worst: for, as his
Lordship's trap drove up, the two tom-fools stopped their boxin' to
stand 'pon their toes and blow kisses at him!

"I must say that Battershall showed great presence o' mind.
He shouted to me to tackle Truslove, while he ran up to Matthey
Hancock an' butted him in the stomach; an' together we'd