“Ah, but I think you do. If you persist in refusing this invitation will it not be because you are afraid of making Lady Lufton angry? I do not know what there can be in that woman that she is able to hold both you and Lufton in leading-strings.” Robarts, of course, denied the charge and protested that he was not to be taken back to his own parsonage by any fear of Lady Lufton. But though he made such protest with warmth, he knew that he did so ineffectually. Sowerby only smiled and said that the proof of the pudding was in the eating. “What is the good of a man keeping a curate if it be not to save him from that sort of drudgery?” he asked. “Drudgery! If I were a drudge how could I be here to-day?” “Well, Robarts, look here. I am speaking now, perhaps, with more of the energy of an old friend than circumstances fully warrant; but I am an older man than you, and as I have a regard for you I do not like to see you throw up a good game when it is in your hands.” “Oh, as far as that goes, Sowerby, I need hardly tell you that I appreciate your kindness.” “If you are content,” continued the man of the world, “to live at Framley all your life, and to warm yourself in the sunshine of the dowager there, why, in such case, it may perhaps be useless for you to extend the circle of your friends; but if you have higher ideas than these, I think you will be very wrong to omit the present opportunity of going to the duke’s. I never knew the duke go so much out of his way to be civil to a clergyman as he has done in this instance.” “I am sure I am very much obliged to him.” “The fact is, that you may, if you please, make yourself popular in the county; but you cannot do it by obeying all Lady Lufton’s behests. She is a dear old woman, I am sure.” “She is, Sowerby; and you would say so, if you knew her.” “I don’t doubt it; but it would not do for you or me to live exactly according to her ideas. Now, here, in this case, the bishop of the diocese is to be one of the party, and he has, I believe, already expressed a wish that you should be another.” “He asked me if I were going.” “Exactly; and Archdeacon Grantley will be there.” “Will he?” asked Mark. Now, that would be a great point gained, for Archdeacon Grantley was a close friend of Lady Lufton. “So I understand from Fothergill. Indeed, it will be very wrong of you not to go, and I tell you so plainly; and what is more, when you talk about your duty--you having a curate as you have--why, it is gammon.” These last words he spoke looking back over his shoulder as he stood up in his stirrups, for he had caught the eye of the huntsman who was surrounded by his hounds, and was now trotting on to join him.