"I am glad of that. It was to the Reverend Dr. Beganuph—the rector of some place in some county—I am sure I forget where. However—the reverend gentleman is having the parish church enlarged—or made smaller—I really forget which,—but I know it's something of the kind;—and as he has sent a circular to all persons whose names are in the Court Guide, soliciting subscriptions, I cannot, of course, refuse to contribute my mite of five pounds to the pious work—especially as the list of subscribers is to be advertised in the principal London and provincial papers. We must support the Church, Lafleur."
"Yes, sir—decidedly, sir," observed the valet.
"What would become of us without the Church?" continued Mr. Greenwood. "It is the source from which flow all the blessings of Christian love, hope, benevolence, and charity. Hark! Lafleur, I do really believe there is a woman singing a ballad in the street! Run out and give her into custody this minute."
"Beg your pardon, sir," said the valet: "it's only the muffin-boy."
"Oh! that's different," observed Mr. Greenwood, rising from his seat. "The chaise will be here at seven, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"You and Filippo will accompany me. Tell Filippo to see that his fire-arms are in good order; and do you attend to mine as well as your own. Not that I apprehend any danger on such a road as that on which we are about to travel; still it is better to be prepared."
"Decidedly, sir," answered Lafleur, not a muscle of his countenance betraying any extraordinary emotion.
"Take a lamp to my study," said Greenwood; "and then go and see about the fire-arms. Let my case of pistols be put inside the chaise."
"Yes, sir;"—and Lafleur was about to leave the room, when he suddenly recollected himself, and said, "If you please, sir, your boot-maker sent your new slippers this morning, wrapped up in a piece of the Weekly Dispatch. I thought I had better mention it, sir."