ace, he will
be wrong. If he wants to come in here, let him tie the beast to the
rail." So Jane went out and sent a message to Mr. Thumble by the girl,
and Mr. Thumble did tie the pony to the rail, and followed the girl
into the house. Jane in the meantime had retired out by the back door
to the school, but Mrs. Crawley kept her ground. She kept her ground
although she believed almost that her husband would prefer to have
the field to himself. As Mr. Thumble did not at once enter the room,
Mr. Crawley stalked to the door, and stood with it open in his hand.
Though he knew Mr. Thumble's person, he was not acquainted with
him, and therefore he simply bowed to the visitor, bowing more
than once or twice with a cold courtesy, which did not put Mr
Thumble altogether at his ease. "My name is Mr. Thumble," said the
visitor,--"the Reverend Caleb Thumble," and he held the bishop's
letter in his hand. Mr. Crawley seemed to take no notice of the
letter, but motioned Mr. Thumble with his hand into the room.

"I suppose you have come from Barchester this morning?" said Mrs
Crawley.

"Yes, madam,--from the palace." Mr. Thumble, though a humble man in
positions in which he felt that humility would become him,--a humble
man to his betters, as he himself would have expressed it,--had still
about him something of that pride which naturally belonged to those
clergymen who were closely attached to the palace at Barchester. Had
he been sent on a message to Plumstead,--could any such message from
Barchester palace have been possible,--he would have been properly
humble in his demeanour to the archdeacon, or to Mrs. Grantly had he
been admitted to the august presence of that lady; but he was aware
that humility would not become him on his present mission; he had
been expressly ordered to be firm by Mrs. Proudie, and firm he meant
to be; and therefore, in communicating to Mrs. Crawley the fact that
he had come from the palace, he did load the tone of his voice with
something of the dignity which Mr. Crawley might perhaps be excused
for regarding as arrogance.

"And what does the 'palace' want with me?" said Mr. Crawley. Mrs
Crawley knew at once that 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 palac