‘And what does the “palace” want with me?’ said Mr Crawley.  Mrs Crawley knew at once there was to be a battle.  Nay, the battle had begun.  Nor was she altogether sorry; for though she could not trust her husband to sit alone all day in his arm-chair over the fire, she could trust him to carry on a disputation with any other clergyman on any subject whatever.  ‘What does the palace want with me?’ And as Mr Crawley asked the question he stood erect, and looked Mr Thumble full in the face.  Mr Thumble called to mind the fact, that Mr Crawley was a very poor man indeed—­so poor that he owed money all round the country to butchers and bakers, and the other fact that he, Mr Thumble himself, did not owe any money to anyone, his wife luckily having a little income of her own; and, strengthened by these remembrances, he endeavoured to bear Mr Crawley’s attack with gallantry.

’Of course, Mr Crawley, you are aware that this unfortunate affair at Silverbridge—­’

’I am not prepared to discuss the unfortunate affair at Silverbridge with a stranger.  If you are the bearer of any message to me from the Bishop of Barchester, perhaps you will deliver it.’

‘I have brought a letter,’ said Mr Thumble.  Then Mr Crawley stretched out his hand without a word, and taking the letter with him to the window, read it very slowly.  When he had made himself master of its contents, he refolded the letter, placed it again in the envelope, and returned to the spot where Mr Thumble was standing.  ’I will answer the bishop’s letter,’ he said; ’I will answer it of course, as it is fitting that I should do so.  Shall I ask you to wait for my reply, or shall I send it by course of post?’

‘I think, Mr Crawley, as the bishop wishes me to undertake the duty—­’

’You will not undertake the duty, Mr Thumble.  You need not trouble yourself, for I shall not surrender my pulpit to you.’

‘But the bishop—­’

‘I care nothing for the bishop in this matter.’  So much he spoke in anger, and then he corrected himself.  ’I crave the bishop’s pardon, and yours as his messenger, if in the heat occasioned by my strong feelings I have said aught which may savour of irreverence towards his lordship’s office.  I respect his lordship’s high position as bishop of this diocese, and I bow to his commands in all things lawful.  But I must not bow to him in things unlawful, nor must I abandon my duty before God at his bidding, unless his bidding be given in accordance with the canons of the Church and the laws of the land.  It will be my duty, on the coming Sunday, to lead the prayers of my people in the church of my parish, and to preach to them from my pulpit; and that my duty, with God’s assistance, I will perform.  Nor will I allow any clergyman to interfere with me in the performance of those sacred offices—­no, not though the bishop himself should be present with the object of enforcing his illegal command.’  Mr Crawley spoke these words without hesitation, even with eloquence, standing upright, and with something of a noble anger gleaming over his poor wan face; and, I think, that while speaking them, he was happier than he had been for many a long day.