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Page 19
The warden thought of his income being thus discussed, his modest
life, his daily habits, and his easy work; and nothing issued from
that single cord, but a low wail of sorrow. "I suppose they've sent
this petition up to my father." The warden didn't know; he imagined
they would do so this very day.
"What I can't understand is, how you let them do it, with such a
command as you have in the place, or should have with such a man as
Bunce. I cannot understand why you let them do it."
"Do what?" asked the warden.
"Why, listen to this fellow Bold, and that other low pettifogger,
Finney;--and get up this petition too. Why didn't you tell Bunce to
destroy the petition?"
"That would have been hardly wise," said the warden.
"Wise;--yes, it would have been very wise if they'd done it among
themselves. I must go up to the palace and answer it now, I suppose.
It's a very short answer they'll get, I can tell you."
"But why shouldn't they petition, doctor?"
"Why shouldn't they!" responded the archdeacon, in a loud brazen
voice, as though all the men in the hospital were expected to hear him
through the walls; "why shouldn't they? I'll let them know why they
shouldn't; by the bye, warden, I'd like to say a few words to them all
together."
The warden's mind misgave him, and even for a moment he forgot to
play. He by no means wished to delegate to his son-in-law his place
and authority of warden; he had expressly determined not to interfere
in any step which the men might wish to take in the matter under
dispute; he was most anxious neither to accuse them nor to defend
himself. All these things he was aware the archdeacon would do in his
behalf, and that not in the mildest manner; and yet he knew not how to
refuse the permission requested.
"I'd so much sooner remain quiet in the matter," said he, in an
apologetic voice.
"Quiet!" said the archdeacon, still speaking with his brazen trumpet;
"do you wish to be ruined in quiet?"
"Why, if I am to be ruined, certainly."
"Nonsense, warden; I tell you something must be done;--we must act;
just let me ring the bell, and send the men word that I'll speak to
them in the quad."
Mr Harding knew not how to resist, and the disagreeable order was
given. The quad, as it was familiarly called, was a small quadrangle,
open on one side to the river, and surrounded on the others by the
high wall of Mr Harding's garden, by one gable end of Mr Harding's
house, and by the end of the row of buildings which formed the
residences of the bedesmen. It was flagged all round, and the centre
was stoned; small stone gutters ran from the four corners of the
square to a grating in the centre; and attached to the end of Mr
Harding's house was a conduit with four cocks covered over from the
weather, at which the old men got their water, and very generally
performed their morning toilet. It was a quiet, sombre place, shaded
over by the trees of the warden's garden. On the side towards the
river, there stood a row of stone seats, on which the old men would
sit and gaze at the little fish, as they flitted by in the running
stream. On the other side of the river was a rich, green meadow,
running up to and joining the deanery, and as little open to the
public as the garden of the dean itself. Nothing, therefore, could be
more private than the quad of the hospital; and it was there that the
archdeacon determined to convey to them his sense of their refractory
proceedings.
The servant soon brought in word that the men were assembled in the
quad, and the archdeacon, big with his purpose, rose to address them.
"Well, warden, of course you're coming," said he, seeing that Mr
Harding did not prepare to follow him.
"I wish you'd excuse me," said Mr Harding.
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