"We have a church in every parish
for those who choose to attend it"
"And very few do choose," said the Senator. "I can't say that
they're wrong." There seemed at the moment to be no necessity to
carry the disagreeable conversation any further as they had now
reached the house. Mrs. Morton immediately went up-stairs, and the
two gentlemen took themselves to the fire in the so-called library,
which room was being used as more commodious than the big
drawing-room. Mr. Gotobed placed himself on the rug with his back
to the fire and immediately reverted to the Church. "That gentleman
is paid by tithes I suppose."
"He's not the rector. He's a curate."
"Ah;--just so. He looked like a curate. Doesn't the rector do
anything?"
Then Morton, who was by this time heartily sick of explaining,
explained the unfortunate state of Mr. Puttock's health, and the
conversation was carried on till gradually the Senator learned that
Mr. Puttock received 800 pounds a year and a house for doing
nothing, and that he paid his deputy 100 pounds a year with the use
of a pony. "And how long will that be allowed to go on, Mr.
Morton?" asked the Senator.
To all these inquiries Morton found himself compelled not only to
answer, but to answer the truth. Any prevarication or attempt at
mystification fell to the ground at once under the Senator's
tremendous powers of inquiry.
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