"
"He had a row with the rector at a vestry meeting," said the Major,
"about the heating of the church."
"That settles it," said Meldon. "I ask for nothing more. The man
who's capable of annoying the poor old rector, who has chronic
bronchitis and must keep the church up to a pretty fair temperature--"
"What Simpkins said was that the church wasn't hot enough."
"It's all the same," said Meldon. "The point is that he worried the
rector, who's not physically strong enough to bear it, and who
certainly does not deserve it. I didn't mind his attacking you or
Doyle. You can both hit back, and if you were any good would have hit
back long ago in a way which Simpkins would have disliked intensely.
But a clergyman is different. He can't defend himself. He is obliged,
by the mere fact of being a clergyman, to sit down under every species
of insult which any ill-conditioned corner-boy chooses to sling at him.
There was a fellow in my parish, when I first went there, who thought
he'd be perfectly safe in ragging me because he knew I was a parson.
No later than this morning a horrid rabble of railway porters, and
people of that sort, tried to bully me, because, owing to their own
ridiculous officiousness, I was forced to travel first class on a
third-class ticket.
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