Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

what is worse, I must say you are a little suspicious. In all this matter I have harassed myself greatly to oblige you, and in return I have got more kicks than halfpence.”

“Did not you give this bill to Tozer⁠—the bill which he now holds?”

“In the first place he does not hold it; and in the next place I did not give it to him. These things pass through scores of hands before they reach the man who makes the application for payment.”

“And who came to me the other day?”

“That, I take it, was Tom Tozer, a brother of our Tozer’s.”

“Then he holds the bill, for I saw it with him.”

“Wait a moment; that is very likely. I sent you word that you would have to pay for taking it up. Of course they don’t abandon those sort of things without some consideration.”

“Ten pounds, you said,” observed Mark.

“Ten or twenty; some such sum as that. But you were hardly so soft as to suppose that the man would ask for such a sum. Of course he would demand the full payment. There is the bill, Lord Lufton,” and Sowerby, producing a document, handed it across the table to his lordship. “I gave five-and-twenty pounds for it this morning.”

Lord Lufton took the paper and looked at it. “Yes,” said he, “that’s the bill. What am I to do with it now?”

“Put it with the family archives,” said Sowerby⁠—“or behind the fire, just which you please.”

“And is this the last of them? Can no other be brought up?”

“You know better than I do what paper you may have put your hand to. I know of no other. At the last renewal that was the only outstanding bill of which I was aware.”

“And you have paid five-and-twenty pounds for it?”

“I have. Only that you have been in such a tantrum about it, and would have made such a noise this afternoon if I had not brought it, I might have had it for fifteen or twenty. In three or four days they would have taken fifteen.”

“The odd ten pounds does not signify, and I’ll pay you the twenty-five, of course,” said Lord Lufton, who now began to feel a little ashamed of himself.

“You may do as you please about that.”

“Oh! it’s my affair, as a matter of course. Any amount of that kind I don’t mind,” and he sat down to fill in a cheque for the money.

“Well, now, Lufton, let me say a few words to you,” said Sowerby, standing with his back against the fireplace, and playing with a small cane which he held in his hand. “For heaven’s sake try and be a little more charitable to those around you. When you become fidgety about anything, you indulge in language which the world won’t stand, though men who know you as well as Robarts and I may consent to put up with it. You have accused me, since I have been here, of all manner of iniquity⁠—”

“Now, Sowerby⁠—”

“My dear fellow, let me have my say out. You have accused me, I say, and I believe that you have accused him. But it has never occurred to you, I daresay, to accuse yourself.”

“Indeed it has.”

“Of course you have been wrong in having to do with such men as Tozer. I have also been very wrong. It wants no great moral authority to tell us that. Pattern gentlemen don’t have dealings with Tozer, and very much the better they are for not having them. But a man should have back enough to bear the weight which he himself puts on it. Keep away from Tozer, if you can, for the future; but if you do deal with him, for heaven’s sake keep your temper.”

“That’s all very fine, Sowerby; but you know as well as I do⁠—”

“I know this,” said the devil, quoting Scripture, as he folded up the check for twenty-five pounds, and put it in his pocket, “that when a man sows tares, he won’t reap wheat, and it’s no use to expect it. I am tough in these matters, and can bear a great deal⁠—that is, if I be not pushed too far,” and he looked full into Lord Lufton’s face as he spoke; “but I think you have been very hard upon Robarts.”

“Never mind me, Sowerby; Lord Lufton and I are very old friends.”

“And may therefore take a liberty with each other. Very well. And now I’ve done my sermon. My dear dignitary, allow me to congratulate you. I hear from Fothergill that that little affair of yours has been definitely settled.”

Mark’s face again became clouded. “I rather think,” said he, “that I shall decline the presentation.”

“Decline it!” said Sowerby, who, having used his utmost efforts to obtain it, would have been more absolutely offended by such vacillation on the vicar’s part than by any personal abuse which either he or Lord Lufton could heap upon him.

“I think I shall,” said Mark.

“And why?”

Mark looked up at Lord Lufton, and then remained silent for a moment.

“There can be no occasion for such a sacrifice under the present circumstances,” said his lordship.

“And under what circumstances could there be occasion for it?” asked Sowerby. “The Duke of Omnium has used some little influence to get the place for you as a parish clergyman belonging to his county, and I should think it monstrous if you were now to reject it.”

And then Robarts openly stated the whole of his reasons, explaining exactly what Lord Lufton had said with reference to the bill transactions, and to the allegation which would be made as to the stall having been given in payment for the accommodation.

“Upon my word that’s too bad,” said Sowerby.

“Now, Sowerby, I won’t be lectured,” said Lord Lufton.

“I have done my lecture,” said he, aware, perhaps, that it would not do for him to push his friend too far, “and I shall not give a second. But, Robarts, let me tell you this: as far as I know, Harold Smith has had little