And he was proud as a boy of the simple bit of slap-dashing, and entirely absorbed in it and the pork-pie.
Presently he became aware that he was not alone.

Someone had entered the schoolroom at the far end.

He turned round, with the paint-brush in one hand and the pork-pie in the other, and became abashed, for a beautiful lady had entered the room and was evidently about to make an enquiry.

The surreptitiousness that seems to inhere in pork-pies prompted Mr.Moggridge to slip the pie into his trousers' pocket--for his coat was off, and a white apron had taken its place.
"Just doing a little bit of amateur painting," he explained rather awkwardly, advancing to the lady.
"So I see," said the lady, with a pleasant smile.

"This, I believe, is Zion Chapel--and I suppose this is the room where I am to recite.