The marquis absolutely glared at her, as she went on with her domestic defence. The household at Hurst Staple had been creditably managed, considering the income; and it was natural that she should wish to set her patron right. But every word that she said carried her further away from her present object.
"And what on earth have you come to me for?" said Lord Stapledean.
"I'll tell your lordship, if you'll only allow me five minutes. Your lordship remembers when poor Mr. Wilkinson died?"
"I don't remember anything about it."
"Your lordship was good enough to send for Arthur."
"Arthur!"
"Yes, my lord."
"Who's Arthur?"
"My boy, my lord. Don't you remember? He was just in orders then, and so you were good enough to put him into the living—that is to say, not exactly into the living; but to make him curate, as it were; and you allocated the income to me; and—"
"Allocated the income!" said Lord Stapledean, putting up his hands in token of unlimited surprise.