“The house will not be furnished, will it, Mark?” said his wife. “I don’t know how we shall get on.”
“Don’t frighten yourselves. I shall take lodgings in Barchester.”
“And we shall not see you all the time,” said Mrs. Robarts with dismay. But the prebendary explained that he would be backwards and forwards at Framley every week, and that in all probability he would only sleep at Barchester on the Saturdays and Sundays—and, perhaps, not always then.
“It does not seem very hard work, that of a prebendary,” said Lucy.
“But it is very dignified,” said Fanny. “Prebendaries are dignitaries of the Church—are they not, Mark?”
“Decidedly,” said he; “and their wives also, by special canon law. The worst of it is that both of them are obliged to wear wigs.”
“Shall you have a hat, Mark, with curly things at the side, and strings through to hold them up?” asked Lucy.
“I fear that does not come within my perquisites.”
“Nor a rosette? Then I shall never believe that you are a dignitary. Do you mean to say that you will wear a hat like a common parson—like Mr. Crawley, for instance?”
“Well—I believe I may give a twist to the leaf; but I am by no means sure till I shall have consulted the dean in chapter.”