standing by the door, greeting him in a friendly voice.
"Pray, don't be alarmed," said the curate as he advanced. "I am the Provst's representative, his curate—and come to you by his request."
At this moment the door of an adjoining room was cautiously opened, and a heavily built, middle aged woman with iron-gray hair and large, prominent eyes came in. She also stopped in mute astonishment, and, for a moment, measured the strange clergyman with a not very friendly glance But suddenly a bright cheery smile lit up her face, and approaching the curate without any awkwardness, she offered him her fleshy hand, and said in a remarkably soft, childlike voice—
"It's surely never our new curate?… Nay then you're heartily welcome!… So you've really come at last! I'd never expected such a piece of luck.… Well I am glad, that I am!… So you're really the new priest, and this is what you look like! It's just what I might have expected.… I'm right down glad to see you and no mistake!"
She planted herself in front of him a little way off with her hands folded on her big stomach, and continued her outbursts of delight, while she eyed him from head to foot.
The curate, after a time, began to feel this inspection somewhat embarrassing, and asked after the sick person.
