"Ay, I do, Master Portlock, sir; but I don't want you to die for it. I want you to live and grow stout, and want new suits, not a last one."

"Stiff, hard suit o' mourning, eh, Smithson, made o' wood?"

"Yes, sir, well seasoned; ellum, eh?"

There was a general laugh at this lugubrious joking, and Fullerton tapped impatiently with his pipe-bowl upon the table.

"I say, gentlemen, a most unsuitable man," he continued.

"Who would you have had then?" said Churchwarden Portlock.

"Why Thomas Morrison, the wheelwright," said Fullerton, "if you must have a churchman."

"Yes, a good man," was murmured in a.s.sent.

"Then he must be pulling the church all to pieces, and quarrelling with the curate, and refusing to bury his dead. We wouldn't have refused to bury our dead at chapel, gentlemen."

"Not you," chuckled Portlock. "You'd like to bury the lot of us, parson and all."

"Gentlemen, this is begging the question," said Fullerton, with plump dignity, and he settled his neck in his white cravat. "What I say is, that I have no enmity against the parson, nayther have you."

"Nay, nay," said Warton, the saddler, who had the rectory pair horse harness on his mind, the new double set, that he saw, by the name on the packing-case, came from Peak's; "we only pity him. He has plenty of trouble wi' those two boys of his. I hear the Bad Shilling's come back now."

"Ay, he's back," said Smithson. "I've got a pair of his trousers to mend. One never gets anything to make. Up at thy place last night, wasn't he, Master Portlock?"

The Churchwarden nodded.

"Nice boys!" said Smithson. "Dessay the father was like 'em, for the girls really are nice, like their mother."

"Then he was twice as hard as he need be on Jock Morrison," continued Fullerton, who would finish. "Fancy sending a man to gaol for three months just when his brother's got a death in the house."

"Fair play," cried Portlock. "The bairn died afterwards."

"Well, maybe it did," said Fullerton, "but he needn't have been so hard on the poor bairn's uncle. Why not give him another chance? He's no worse in his way than the parson's boys are in theirs."

"Boys will be boys," said Smithson, who wondered whether that pair of trousers to mend might result in an order for a suit.

Fullerton was impatient, and cut in almost before the tailor had finished.

"Clergymen's all very well in their way, gentlemen, but the dismissing of old schoolmasters and appointing of new ones don't seem to me to be in their way, especially where there's governors to a school."

"Parson's a governor too," said Warton, the saddler.

"_Ex officio_?" said Tomlinson, the ironmonger, who kept the bank.

"Of course, of course," acquiesced Fullerton, who had not the least idea of what _ex officio_ meant; "but I said it before, and I said it to parson's own face, just the same as I'm saying it here behind his back, and any man who likes can tell him what I said," and he looked round defiantly as he spoke; "what I say is, that, whatever Humphrey Bone's faults may be, he's as good a land measurer as ever stepped."

"Yes, he _is_ that," said a broad farmer-looking man. "Joseph Portlock, you said the very same thing to me yesternight."

"He's a first-cla.s.s penman."

"Capital," said Tomlinson.

"And if you know a man with a clearer head for figures," continued Fullerton, "I should be glad to see him."

"Capital man at ciphering," said Smithson, the tailor, whose yearly accounts Humphrey Bone always made up.

"Then, what do you want?" said Fullerton, angrily. "We've all got our faults, and if Humphrey Bone does take a little too much sometimes, hasn't he been master of Lawford school these thirty years?"

The latter part of Jabez Fullerton's argument was not very clear to his fellow-townsmen a.s.sembled at their weekly social meeting at the King's Head; but they all granted that they had their faults, and Jabez Fullerton waved the spoon with which he had been stirring his brandy-and-water in a very statesmanlike way.

"Look here," he said, "I never go to church, for chapel's good enough for me; but all the same I don't bear enmity against the church, and never would."

"But you did oppose the church rates, Fullerton," said Tomlinson, with a chuckle.

"On principle, neighbour, on principle; I couldn't help that. But in this case what I say is, that though I'd be the last man in the world to oppose parson, it would be a disgrace to the town if we let poor Humphrey Bone be pitched out of the living, just because parson wants the place for Churchwarden Ross's boy."

"Well, I don't know what to say about it," said Tomlinson, smoking meditatively at his pipe. "Michael Ross is a very good neighbour of mine, and brings his money to our bank regular. I should be sorry to hurt his feelings, 'specially as his boy has been to London on purpose to be trained."

"Let him get a school somewhere else. There's always plenty on the way, I'll be bound."

"Don't seem to me as the boys'll take to a lad as was brought up, as you may say, among 'em," said Smithson. "Bless my soul, gentlemen, I made that boy his fust suit with three rows o' bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, with marigolds stamped on 'em. Bottle-green the suit was, and the trousers b.u.t.toned over the jacket. You know, Fullerton; I had the cloth of you."

"Oh, yes, I know," said the draper suavely.

"Well," continued Smithson--

"Excuse me, Smithson," said Fullerton, "we're just discussing the question of Mr Mallow carrying everything with a high hand, and turning out old Humphrey Bone without our consent."

Smithson, the tailor, jumped up, scowled round at the a.s.sembled company, stuck his hat upon his head with a bang, and walked straight out of the room.

"He's huffed," said Fullerton, with a sidewise wag of the head, "but I can't help his being offended. When a man becomes a public man, he's got a public man's dooty to do to his fellow townsfolk, and at times like this he's bound to speak. So what I say, gentlemen, is this; will you all come to the meeting to-morrow, and back me up?"

No one spoke, and it was remarkable that every man present just then seemed to feel his mouth dry, and reached out his hand for his gla.s.s.

"I say again, gentlemen," cried Fullerton, "will you all come and back me up?"

Every man present seemed to consider that it was the duty of the others to speak out and tackle Fullerton--so they mentally put it--and each looked at the other in turn without avail, till the regards of all present seemed to be concentrated upon Tomlinson, the ironmonger, who after a little hesitation said--

"I don't think it was wise to upset Smithson. It's like sending a man over to the enemy."

"I hope he hasn't got a long bill against you for clothes, Fullerton,"

said Warton, the saddler, with a chuckle. "You'll have it in before it comes due."

"If I owed my tailor a bill I dare say I could pay it, Mr Warton," said Fullerton, haughtily; "and I should be glad to know, gentlemen, whether you mean to discuss the question of the appointment of a new master, because if you don't I shall throw the whole matter up."

"Oh, no, no, no," came in a murmur; "don't do that, Fullerton," and an appealing look was directed at Tomlinson, who drew a long breath, refreshed himself, and went on.

"You see I don't think it would be wise to go and upset Mr Mallow if we could help it," he said; "he's a very good customer of mine, and very neighbourly. I don't think he's a bad sort of man."