"Very arch—yes, it was what old Toler called the office bottle; do you remember? it weighed three or four pounds. I think you were glad it was broken; you never got one like it into the room again. I say if it had caught you on the head, what a deal of learning and other things the Church would have lost!"
Whenever it was Cleve's pleasure to banter, the Reverend Isaac Dixie took it in good part. It was his ancient habit, so on this occasion he simpered agreeably.
"It was in the little study at Malory. By-the-by, who are those people you have put into Malory?" continued Cleve.
"Ha—the—the people who occupy the house?" asked the clergyman, throwing out a question to gain time.
"Come—who are they?" said Cleve, a little briskly, throwing himself back in his seat at the same time, and looking in Dixie's face.
"Well, I'm the person responsible; in fact the lease is to me."
"Yes, I know that; go on."
"Well, I took it at the request of Miss Sheckleton, an elderly lady, whom——"
"Whom I don't care to hear about," interrupted Cleve. "There's an old gentleman—there's a young lady; who are they? I want their names."
The Reverend Isaac Dixie was evidently a little puzzled. He coughed, he looked down, he simpered, and shook his head.