When he got home, he found Father Barham sitting in his library.  An accident had lately happened at Father Barham’s own establishment.  The wind had blown the roof off his cottage; and Roger Carbury, though his affection for the priest was waning, had offered him shelter while the damage was being repaired.  Shelter at Carbury Manor was very much more comfortable than the priest’s own establishment, even with the roof on, and Father Barham was in clover.  Father Barham was reading his own favourite newspaper, ‘The Surplice,’ when Roger entered the room.  ‘Have you seen this, Mr Carbury?’ he said.

’What’s this?  I am not likely to have seen anything that belongs peculiarly to “The Surplice."’

’That’s the prejudice of what you are pleased to call...