"Gar, dear, how can I?" asked Jane. "Is it a minor canonry?"
They both laughed. It recalled Jane to her absence of mind. The bishop had nothing to do with bestowing the minor canonries. Neither could a minor canonry be called a "living."
"Mother, it is Deoffam."
"Deoffam! Oh, Gar!"
"Yes, it is Deoffam. You will not have to go far away from Helstonleigh, now."
"I'll lay my court wig that Mr. Ashley has had his finger in the pie!" cried quick Frank.
But, in point of fact, the gift had emanated from the prelate himself. And a very good gift it was: four hundred a year, and the prettiest parsonage house within ten miles. The brilliant scholarship of the Halliburtons, attained by their own unflagging industry, the high character they had always borne, had not been lost upon the Bishop of Helstonleigh. Gar's conduct as a clergyman had been exemplary; Gar's preaching was of no mean order, and the bishop deemed that such a one as Gar ought not to be overlooked. The day has gone by for a bishop to know nothing of the younger clergy of his diocese, and he of Helstonleigh had Gar Halliburton down in his preferment book. It is just possible that the announcement of his name in the local papers, as having helped to marry his brother at Deoffam, may have put that particular living into the bishop's head. Certain it was, that, a few hours after the bishop read it, he ordered his carriage, and went to pay a visit at Deoffam Hall. During his stay, he took Mr. Ashley's arm, and drew him out on to the terrace, very much as though he wished to take a nearer view of the peacock.
"I have been thinking, Mr. Ashley, of bestowing the living of Deoffam upon Edgar Halliburton. What should you say to it?"
"That I should almost feel it as a personal favour paid to myself," was the reply of Mr. Ashley.
"Then it is done," said the bishop. "He is young, but I know a great many older men who are less deserving than he."