“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“If you’ll allow me to say it, I think it’s somewhat incautious to let her ride alone. I’ve offered to accompany her to-morrow.”
“Oh, that’s very good of you,” said the brewer. “I’m afraid you’ll find it a great bore.”
“Not at all; I assure you it will be a great pleasure. My doctor has advised me to take horse-exercise, and I shall be only too glad to have some one to ride with.” The Canon put his arm through the brewer’s in his most friendly fashion. “And how are you, my dear fellow? I trust that your affairs are flourishing.”
“Well, in point of fact they’re not,” cried the other, suddenly growing serious. “That confounded Government wants to give the local justices power to close a certain proportion of public-houses in their districts.”
“Ah, yes, I saw something about that in the papers, but I understood it would have no influence on the consumption of liquor. Stonehenge’s idea is that the remaining houses will profit.”
“Don’t you believe it,” cried Sir John, with much vigour. “Nine times out of ten a man doesn’t drink a glass of beer because he’s thirsty, but because there’s a public-house at his elbow. Each one they shut up will take a good round sum out of our pockets.”
“The Government seems very strong on the point. I suppose they’ve been got hold of by the faddists.”
Sir John stopped still and significantly tapped Canon Spratte on the chest. His utterance was full of weight.
“Mark my words. The Government doesn’t know how strong we are. If they try to interfere with the liquor interest it’ll be a bad day for the Conservative party. I’ll fight them tooth and nail, and I shall carry the whole trade with me. I’m not a boasting fool, but I tell you this: the Government’s in a damned wobbly state, and if they put my back up I don’t answer for the consequences.”