“It sounds very innocent, Mrs. Torp, visiting a clergyman,” remarked the lady.

“Innocent!” cried Gerda’s mother indignantly. “Innocent thee own self, though I do say it! ’Tis pagan deviltries, worse nor Paul on Corinthians. I tell ’ee, they do play blasphemous play-actings out there, same as Lot’s wife were salted for.”

“Miracle-plays, is it?” asked Wolf.

“How do I know what they call ’en? ’Tis small matter for the name. Wold Dimity, up to Otters’, told I that one girt gummuk of a lad dressed ’isself up as Virgin Mary. If that hain’t a blasphemous cantrip, I’d like to know what be!”

“I expect Mrs. Solent knows better than any of us, Mother, what’s going on out at King’s Barton,” put in Gerda diplomatically.