So, flogged by her, I related what I had gleaned from Marigold's wooden reports.

He always conveyed personal information as though he were giving evidence against a defaulter.

I had to start all over again.

Apparently this had happened: Mrs.Tufton had arrayed herself, not in sackcloth and ashes, for that was apparently her normal attire, but in an equivalent, as far as a symbol of humility was concerned; namely, in decent raiment, and had sought her husband's forgiveness.

There had been a touching scene in the scullery which Mrs.Marigold had given up to them for the sake of privacy, in which the lady had made tearful promises of reform and the corporal had magnanimously passed the sponge over the terrible reckoning on her slate.