Mrs.
Crawley knew at once that there was to be a battle.

Nay, the battle had begun.

Nor was she altogether sorry; for though she could not trust her husband to sit alone all day in his arm-chair over the fire, she could trust him to carry on a disputation with any other clergyman on any subject whatever.

"What does the palace want with me ?" And as Mr.Crawley asked the question he stood erect, and looked Mr.Thumble full in the face.

Mr.Thumble called to mind the fact, that Mr.Crawley was a very poor man indeed,--so poor that he owed money all round the country to butchers and bakers, and the other fact, that he, Mr.Thumble himself, did not owe any money to any one, his wife luckily having a little income of her own; and, strengthened by these remembrances, he endeavoured to bear Mr.Crawley's attack with gallantry.
"Of course, Mr.Crawley, you are aware that this unfortunate affair at Silverbridge--" "I am not prepared, sir, to discuss the unfortunate affair at Silverbridge with a stranger.