I don't know exactly where to start this story, but I chose to start it at lunchtime at the Vicarage on a Wednesday.The conversation during the dinner was mostly irrelevant to the story to be told, but it did contain one or two illuminating incidents which affected the development of the story. I just finished cutting up some cooked beef (very tough, by the way) and as I got back to my seat, I said that anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing a thing to the world great thing.What I said did not match my clothes. My young nephew Dennis immediately said: "If the old man is found lying in a pool of blood one day, that sentence will be used against you. Mary will give evidence, Mary, won't she? She will tell how you branded the beef-cutting knife with vengeance. .”

Mary is now a parsonage maid, a job she uses as a springboard to a better career and higher income.She just said aloud solemnly: "Green vegetables!" Then he threw a cracked plate in front of me. My wife said in a sympathetic tone: "Is the Colonel really a nuisance?" I didn't answer right away, as Mary pinged the greens onto the table and tossed a plate of soggy, unpleasant apple pudding up my nose.I said, "No thanks." But she put the plate on the table with a jerk and left the room. "I'm sorry I'm such an astonishing housewife," the wife said, with guilt in her voice.

I quite agree.My wife's name is Griselda--a very fitting name for a priest's wife.But that's all, she is by no means a good wife and mother. I have always believed that pastors should remain unmarried throughout their lives.Why I rushed to propose to Griselda after only knowing her for twenty-four hours still baffles me.I've always thought that marriage is a serious business that can only be formed after a long period of devotion and deliberation.First and foremost, be compatible. Griselda was nearly twenty years younger than me.She is beautiful and charming, and she doesn't take anything seriously.She was superior to me in every way, and living with her troubled me endlessly.

She thought of the parish as some great joke for her amusement.I've tried to change her mind, but to no avail.I am more convinced than ever that pastors should be celibate.I often hinted at this to her, but she just laughed it off. "Honey," I said, "if you just put your mind to it—" "I do my best sometimes," said Griselda, "but a lot of the time, I think I'm just the opposite. I'm not by nature a good housewife, so I think it's best to let Mary worry about it. I just have to be ready to sacrifice some comfort and some good food." "And what about your husband, my dear?" I said reproachfully, adding, like the devil in the Bible, quoting scriptures for his own purposes, "She's a good housekeeper..."

"Consider how lucky you are not to be torn to pieces by lions," Griselda interrupted quickly, "and not to be burned at the stake; bad food, dust everywhere, and dead wasps No fuss at all. Tell me something about Colonel Protheroe. Anyway, the early Christians were lucky enough not to be under the deacons of the Church." "Proud, stubborn old man!" Dennis said. "No wonder his ex-wife left him." "I don't see any other choice for her," Tsuyu said. "Griselda," I snapped, "I won't allow you to say that." "Darling," said the wife coquettishly, "tell me about him! What's the matter? Is it Mr. Howes's bowing that always annoys him?"

Howes is our new pastor and has only been here three weeks.He held high church views and fasted on Fridays.Colonel Protheroe was disgusted with any order of discipline. "Not this time. He did come across Howes like that. But the whole trouble was caused by Mrs. Price Ridley's bad pound notes." Mrs. Price is a devout Christian.She dropped a £1 note into a donation bag as she attended a morning service on the anniversary of her son's death.Later, when the amount of the donation was announced, she discovered to her pain that a ten-shilling note was the largest denomination mentioned.

She complained to me about it, and I pointed out, quite reasonably, that she must be mistaken. "Neither of us is as young as we used to be," I tried to deftly change the subject. "We have to live with some of the troubles of old age." Oddly enough, my words seemed to irritate her even more.She said it was very strange, and to her surprise I didn't think so.She went away in a huff, and I thought she went to complain to Colonel Protheroe.Colonel Protheroe was the sort of man who made a fuss out of a molehill at every opportunity.He did make a fuss out of a molehill.Sadly, he was much ado about nothing on Wednesday.I happened to be speaking to the church day school on Wednesday morning, and this incident was exhausting and disturbing for the whole day.

"Well, I think he's got to have some fun," said my wife, with an air that tried to sum up the conversation dogmatically. "Nobody was around him to piss him off, call him dear priest, or give He embroiders ugly slippers, and no one gives him warm socks for Christmas. His wife and daughter are sick of him. I think he'll be happier if he's pompous elsewhere." "He needn't get mad at that," I said with a little apprehension. "I don't think he fully realizes what he's saying. He wants to go through all the accounts of the church—in the case of embezzlement." —that's what he said. Embezzlement, does he suspect me of embezzling church money?"

"No one will suspect you of anything. Honey," said Griselda, "you are too innocent to be suspected, and this is another rare opportunity to prove it. I'd rather you embezzle evangelism." Church money. I hate missionaries, I always hated them." I was about to blame her for the mood when Mary arrived with a half-baked rice pudding.I'm slightly offended, but Griselda said that the Japanese always eat undercooked rice, and the result is a very developed brain. "I dare say," she said, "that if you ate rice pudding like that every day, your Sunday sermon would be wonderful."

"God forbid." I shuddered. "Prothero is coming over tomorrow night and we'll go over the accounts," I said, "and I have to get ready to preach to the Church of England Ladies' Society today. In looking up references, Canon Shirley's The Real Fascinated, so my sermon was not very well prepared. What are you going to do this afternoon, Griselda?" "Do my duty," said Griselda, "do my duty as a vicar's wife. Drink tea and listen to teatime gossip." "Who's coming?" Griselda showed a gentleman's expression on her face, shaking her fingers and counting out a string of names.

"Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Wetherby, Miss Hartnell, and that dreadful Miss Marple." "I kind of like Miss Marple," Griselda said. "She always knows every detail of what's going on and draws the worst from it." Like I said, Griselda was much younger than me.At my age, one knows that the worst is often true. "Oh, don't wait for my tea, Griselda," Dennis said. "Boy!" Griselda scolded. "Call it whatever you want, listen, the Protheroe family did ask me to play tennis today." "Boy!" Griselda cursed again. Dennis ran off recklessly, and Griselda and I walked into my study. "I don't know what we're going to have for tea," said Griselda, sitting down on my desk. "I think Mr. Stone and Miss Crumb will be here, and maybe Mrs. Lestrands too. Well, I called on her yesterday, but she was away. Yes, I think we should invite Rice." Mrs. Trunz came to have tea. She just came here, rented a room, and almost never showed up. It's so mysterious, isn't it? It reminds me of a detective story. You see it described like this —'Who is this pale and beautiful woman? What has she been like? No one knows. She hides her murderous intentions.' I believe Dr. Haydock knows a thing or two about her." "You read too many detective stories, Griselda," I said gently. "So what about you?" she retorted. "I was looking around for 'Blood on the Staircase' one day when you were here writing your sermon. Then when I came in and asked you if you'd read the book, what did I see?" I blushed. "I picked up this book by accident. A sentence caught my attention, so..." "I know those 'chance words,'" Griselda relished, "'and then a very strange thing happened—Griselda got up, walked across the room and kissed Her elderly husband.'" She said as she came up to me and gave me a kiss. "Is this a very strange thing?" I asked. "Of course it is," said Griselda, "don't you see, Len, that I could have married a cabinet minister, a baron, or a wealthy company founder, three lieutenants and a Charming swinger, doesn't it surprise you that I have chosen you instead?" "It did," I replied, "and I often wondered, why did you marry me?" Griselda laughed out loud. "It makes me feel myself very attractive," she murmured to herself. "Others just think I'm beautiful, and of course it would be nice if they married me. But I'm the last thing you want." People who like and most disapprove, but you can't resist my temptation, and my vanity makes me unable to give up such a position. When anyone's hidden, happy source of evil is better than being only in their hats A feather is all the better. I've been making you so unhappy and driving you astray, and yet you love me madly. You love me madly, don't you?" "Of course I like you very much, my dear." "Oh, Ron, you love me. Do you remember the day I was in town, calling you up, and the postmaster's sister was having twins, and she forgot to answer the phone, and you kept missing me You were terrified and reported the incident to Scotland Yard, causing a panic." There are some things that people don't want to remember.I was so stupid in that situation.I said, "My dear, if you don't mind, I've got to get on with the sermons for the Church of England Boys' Association." Griselda sighed indignantly, brushed my hair up, smoothed it out, and said: "You don't deserve me. You really don't deserve me. I'm going to have a little fling with that artist. I will, for real. Then you think about the parish gossip." "Enough is enough," I said gently. Griselda laughed loudly and kissed me lightly.walked away from the window.