Finally, at the end of an eternity, the angst’d youth left the Vicar’s study and he was on his own. The tea trolley was waiting and in a bound he was there. He hacked into the cake like a man possessed by the devil, cutting himself a generous wedge of the tempting, moist, firm sweetmeat.
“Oh cakey, cakey, Cakey!!” the Vicar muttered excitedly to himself, and dispensing with the niceties of using a fork, crammed the thin end of the double serving straight into his wide-open mouth.
Just then, the telephone rang.
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[...] a china tea plate, was in any way strange. In fact, as he waited for Mrs Sodbury, his housekeeper, to finish her nattering on the vicarage telephone, he began to like his new environs. Perhaps he could bring a little three-legged stool in here to [...]