Between five and six o’clock the Parsonage was once more as quiet as usual under the shadow of its tall elms, and the only traces of the Bishop’s recent presence there were the wheel marks on the gravel, and the long table with its garnished dishes awry, its damask sprinkled with crumbs, and its decanters without their stoppers.  Mr. Crewe was already calmly smoking his pipe in the opposite sitting-room, and Janet was agreeing with Mrs. Crewe that some of the blanc-mange would be a nice thing to take to Sally Martin, while the little old lady herself had a spoon in her hand ready to gather the crumbs into a plate, that she might scatter them on the gravel for the little birds.

Before that time, the Bishop’s carriage had been seen driving through the High Street on its way to Lord Trufford’s, where he was to dine.  The question of the lecture was decided, then?

The nature of the decision may be gathered from the following conversation which took place in the bar of the Red Lion that evening.

‘So you’re done, eh, Dempster?’ was Mr. Pilgrim’s observation, uttered with some gusto.  He was not glad Mr. Tryan had gained his point, but he was not sorry Dempster was disappointed.

’Done, sir?  Not at all.  It is what I anticipated.  I knew we had nothing else to expect in these days, when the Church is infested by a set of men who are only fit to give out hymns from an empty cask, to tunes set by a journeyman cobbler.  But I was not the less to exert myself in the cause of sound Churchmanship for the good of the town.  Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning; but give me the man who has pluck to fight when he’s sure of losing.  That’s my way, sir; and there are many victories worse than a defeat, as Mr. Tryan shall learn to his cost.’

‘He must be a poor shuperannyated sort of a bishop, that’s my opinion,’ said Mr. Tomlinson, ’to go along with a sneaking Methodist like Tryan.  And, for my part, I think we should be as well wi’out bishops, if they’re no wiser than that.  Where’s the use o’ havin’ thousands a-year an’ livin’ in a pallis, if they don’t stick to the Church?’

‘No.  There you’re going out of your depth, Tomlinson,’ said Mr. Dempster.  ’No one shall hear me say a word against Episcopacy—­it is a safeguard of the Church; we must have ranks and dignities there as well as everywhere else.  No, sir!  Episcopacy is a good thing; but it may happen that a bishop is not a good thing.  Just as brandy is a good thing, though this particular brandy is British, and tastes like sugared rain-water caught down the chimney.  Here, Ratcliffe, let me have something to drink, a little less like a decoction of sugar and soot.’

‘I said nothing again’ Episcopacy,’ returned Mr. Tomlinson.  ’I only said I thought we should do as well wi’out bishops; an’ I’ll say it again for the matter o’ that.  Bishops never brought any grist to my mill.’

‘Do you know when the lectures are to begin?’ said Mr. Pilgrim.