"Us'll do it without troubling him, then," declared Philip Weekes. "The matter's very safe in your hands, neighbour."
"I think it is. Without self-praise—a thing I have never been accused of—I think it is. My own idea is matured, but I am quite prepared to hear that a better one is forthcoming."
"You should call a meeting and have a committee," suggested Jarratt.
"My idea was to have the committee without the meeting. For instance—we here assembled—why can't we elect a committee?"
"'Twill be too hole-and-corner," said Jarratt.
"Not at all, not at all. This is neither a hole nor yet a corner, but the house of one of the burgesses of Lydford. We represent various interests. I stand in propriâ personâ for advancement and intellectual attainments, and the arts and sciences, and such-like; Jarratt Weekes is for business and mercantile pursuits and commerce; Mr. Huggins—well, he's the oldest inhabitant. 'Twould be a very right and proper thing to have him on the committee."
"Should like nothing better, souls," declared Mr. Huggins. "Talk I won't, but there must be some to listen."
"We ought to have a few more—seven or eight in all," said the younger Weekes. "Then we'll get through a scheme of some sort and hear what you've got to say, schoolmaster."
"The vicar will be very like to put his spoke in it if your ideas don't meet his views," suggested Philip, and Mr. Churchward's large pendulous cheeks flushed a delicate pink at the idea.
"I'm sorry to hear you say that. I hope you're wrong. He gave me a free hand, remember."