Curate's trousers

After Church, the Curate came back with us. I sent Carrie in to open front door, which we do not use except on special occasions. She could not get it open, and after all my display, I had to take the Curate(whose name, by-the-way, I did not catch,) round the side entrance. He caught his foot in the scraper, and tore the buttom of his trousers. Most annoying, as Carrie could not well offer to repair them on Sunday. After dinner, went to sleep. Took a walk round the garden, and discovered a beautiful spot for sowing mustard-and-cress and radishes. Went to Church again in the evening: walk back with the Curate. Carrie noticed he had got on the same pair of trousers, only repaired. He wants me to take round the plate, which I think a great compliment.