it behoved
him, having finished one piece of business, immediately to look to
another.

The sum for which Robarts had made himself responsible--which he so
much feared that he would be called upon to pay--was very nearly half
a year's income; and as yet he had not put by one shilling since he
had been married. When he found himself settled in his parsonage,
he found also that all the world regarded him as a rich man. He had
taken the dictum of all the world as true, and had set himself to
work to live comfortably. He had no absolute need of a curate; but he
could afford the L70--as Lady Lufton had said rather injudiciously;
and by keeping Jones in the parish he would be acting charitably to a
brother clergyman, and would also place himself in a more independent
position. Lady Lufton had wished to see her pet clergyman well-to-do
and comfortable; but now, as matters had turned out, she much
regretted this affair of the curate. Mr. Jones, she said to herself,
more than once, must be made to depart from Framley. He had given
his wife a pony-carriage, and for himself he had a saddle-horse, and
a second horse for his gig. A man in his position, well-to-do as he
was, required as much as that. He had a footman also, and a gardener,
and a groom. The two latter were absolutely necessary, but about the
former there had been a question. His wife had been decidedly hostile
to the footman; but in all such matters as that, to doubt is to be
lost. When the footman had been discussed for a week it became quite
clear to the master that he also was a necessary.

As he drove home that morning he pronounced to himself the doom of
that footman, and the doom also of that saddle-horse. They at any
rate should go. And then he would spend no more money in trips
to Scotland; and above all, he would keep out of the bedrooms of
impoverished members of Parliament at the witching hour of midnight.
Such resolves did he make to himself as he drove home; and bethought
himself wearily how that L400 might be made to be forthcoming. As to
any assistance in the matter from Sowerby,--of that he gave himself
no promise. But he almost felt himself happy again as his wife came
out into the porch to meet him with a silk shawl over her head, and
pretending to shiver as she watched him descending from his gig. "My
dear old man," she said, as she led him into the warm drawing-room
with all his wrappings still about him, "you must be starved." But
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