“On principle, neighbour, on principle; I couldn’t help that. But in this case what I say is, that though I’d be the last man in the world to oppose parson, it would be a disgrace to the town if we let poor Humphrey Bone be pitched out of the living, just because parson wants the place for Churchwarden Ross’s boy.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say about it,” said Tomlinson, smoking meditatively at his pipe. “Michael Ross is a very good neighbour of mine, and brings his money to our bank regular. I should be sorry to hurt his feelings, ’specially as his boy has been to London on purpose to be trained.”
“Let him get a school somewhere else. There’s always plenty on the way, I’ll be bound.”
“Don’t seem to me as the boys’ll take to a lad as was brought up, as you may say, among ’em,” said Smithson. “Bless my soul, gentlemen, I made that boy his fust suit with three rows o’ brass buttons, with marigolds stamped on ’em. Bottle-green the suit was, and the trousers buttoned over the jacket. You know, Fullerton; I had the cloth of you.”
“Oh, yes, I know,” said the draper suavely.
“Well,” continued Smithson—
“Excuse me, Smithson,” said Fullerton, “we’re just discussing the question of Mr Mallow carrying everything with a high hand, and turning out old Humphrey Bone without our consent.”
Smithson, the tailor, jumped up, scowled round at the assembled company, stuck his hat upon his head with a bang, and walked straight out of the room.
“He’s huffed,” said Fullerton, with a sidewise wag of the head, “but I can’t help his being offended. When a man becomes a public man, he’s got a public man’s dooty to do to his fellow townsfolk, and at times like this he’s bound to speak. So what I say, gentlemen, is this; will you all come to the meeting to-morrow, and back me up?”
No one spoke, and it was remarkable that every man present just then seemed to feel his mouth dry, and reached out his hand for his glass.