Runciman's
parlour. Between him and the attorney's chair was Harry Stubbings,
from Stanton Corner, the man who let out hunters, and whom
Twentyman had threatened to thrash. His introduction to the club
had taken place lately, not without some opposition; but Runciman
had set his foot upon that, saying that it was "all d-- nonsense."
He had prevailed, and Twentyman had consented to meet the man; but
there was no great friendship between them. Seated back on the sofa
was Mr. Ribbs, the butcher, who was allowed into the society as
being a specially modest man. His modesty, perhaps, did not hinder
him in an affair of sheep or bullocks, nor yet in the collection of
his debts; but at the club he understood his position, and rarely
opened his mouth to speak. When Twentyman followed the attorney
into the room there was a vacant chair between Mr. Botsey and Harry
Stubbings; but he would not get into it, preferring to seat himself
on the table at Botsey's right hand.
"So Goarly was with you, Mr. Masters," Mr. Runciman began as soon
as the attorney was seated. It was clear that they had all been
talking about Goarly and his law-suit, and that Goarly and the
law-suit would be talked about very generally in Dillsborough.
"He was over at my place this evening," said the attorney.
"You are not going to take his case up for him, Mr.
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