I referred to the dictionary.
“‘Or the corrupt presentation of any one to an eccelesiastical benefice for money or reward.’ That’s where he has you, Lalage. You were offering to present him——”
“I wasn’t. How could I?”
“He thought you were, any how. And the reward in this case evidently was that your father should be made into an archdeacon.”
“That’s the greatest nonsense I ever heard. It wouldn’t be a reward. Father would simply hate it.”
“The Archdeacon couldn’t be expected to understand that. Having held the office for so long himself he naturally regards it as highly desirable.”
“What about the penalties?” said Hilda nervously.
“By far the best thing you can do,” I said, “is to grovel profusely. If you both cast ashes on your heads and let the tears run down your cheeks——”
“If the Archdeacon is such a fool as you’re trying to make out,” said Lalage, “I shall simply write to him and say that nothing on earth would induce me to allow my father to parade the country dressed up in an apron and a pair of tight black gaiters.”
“If you say things like that to him,” I said, “he’ll exact the penalties. See stat: 31 Elizabeth C. VII. You may not mind, but Hilda’s mother will.”