“Where will they get flowers at this season of the year?”
“Oh!—a—from the conservatories of the Hall, if from no other place. I will see that they are sent over to the schoolroom. I think, also, that many of the cottagers have a few late flowers in their gardens, such as chrysanthemums and dahlias and——”
“And do you think, Mr. Prowt, that because a newly married pair happens to be happy and prosperous, that living and blooming flowers should be torn from their warm conservatories and sunny gardens, to be thrown down in the dirt to perish under carriage wheels, in their honor? I don’t.”
“Why, minister, I never heard of such an objection!” said the astonished bailiff.
“Well, you hear it now. And it might be well for you to think of it. The custom is a barbarous one, suitable only to prehistoric savages.”
The bailiff stared.
“And now, Mr. Prowt, I wish to say this to you—with the kindest feelings toward yourself, and with sincere regret that I must disappoint you—that I cannot and will not allow the church bells to be rung, or the parish children to parade, or any single movement to be made in honor of this incoming bridal pair which it is in my power to prevent,” said the minister, all the more firmly because so quietly.
The bailiff stared in silence, too astonished to speak for a minute. Then he demanded:
“But why, in the name of Heaven, reverend sir, would you put such an affront upon the new squire and his bride?”
“I put no affront upon them. I simply decline to show them any honor whatever, or to allow any one under my authority to do so,” emphatically responded the minister.