f archbishops if you
will!" Mr. Thumble started back, appalled at the energy of the words
used to him. "Shall a man have nothing of his own;--no sorrow in his
heart, no care in his family, no thought in his breast so private and
special to him, but that, if he happen to be a clergyman, the bishop
may touch it with his thumb?"

"I am not the bishop's thumb," said Mr. Thumble, drawing himself up.

"I intended not to hint anything personally objectionable to
yourself. I will regard you as one of the angels of the church." Mr
Thumble, when he heard this, began to be sure that Mr. Crawley was
mad; he knew of no angels that could ride about the Barsetshire lanes
on grey ponies. "And as such I will respect you; but I cannot discuss
with you the matter of the bishop's message."

"Oh, very well. I will tell his lordship."

"I will pray you to do so."

"And his lordship, should he so decide, will arm me with such power
on my next coming as will enable me to carry out his lordship's
wishes."

"His lordship will abide by the law, as will you also." In speaking
these last words he stood with the door in his hand, and Mr. Thumble,
not knowing how to increase or even to maintain his firmness, thought
it best to pass out, and mount his pony and ride away.

"The poor man thought that you were laughing at him when you called
him an angel of the church," said Mrs. Crawley, coming up to him and
smiling on him.

"Had I told him he was simply a messenger, he would have taken it
worse;--poor fool! When they have rid themselves of me they may put
him here, in my church; but not yet,--not yet. Where is Jane? Tell
her that I am ready to commence the Seven against Thebes with her."
Then Jane was immediately sent for out of the school, and the Seven
against Thebes was commenced with great energy. Often during the next
hour and a half Mrs. Crawley from the kitchen would hear him reading
out, or rather saying by rote, with sonorous, rolling voice, great
passages from some chorus, and she was very thankful to the bishop
who had sent over to them a message and a messenger which had been so
salutary in their effect upon her husband. "In truth an angel of the
church," she said to herself as she chopped up the onions for the
mutton-broth; and ever afterwards she regarded Mr. Thumble as an
"angel".

CHAPTER XIV

Major Grantly Consults a Friend

Grace Crawley passed through Silverbridge on her way to Allington on
the Monday, and on