s. Fenwick always inquired after the mother
and infant. The greatest possible care had been exercised at the
Vicarage since Mr. Fenwick's coming to show that the Established
Church did not despise the dissenting congregation. For the last
three years there had been talk of a new chapel, and Mr. Fenwick had
himself discussed the site with Mr. Puddleham. A large and commodious
spot of ground, remote from the vicarage, had, as he believed, been
chosen. When he heard those tidings, and saw what would be the effect
of the building, it seemed to him almost impossible that a Marquis
could condescend to such revenge. He went at once to Mr. Puddleham,
and learned from him that Grimes' story was true. This had been in
December. After Christmas, the foundations were to be begun at once,
said Mr. Puddleham, so that the brickwork might go on as soon as the
frosts were over. Mr. Puddleham was in high spirits, and expressed a
hope that he should be in his new chapel by next August. When the
Vicar asked why the change of site was made, being careful to show
no chagrin by the tone of his voice, Mr. Puddleham remarked that
the Marquis's agent thought that it would be an improvement, "in
which opinion I quite coincide," said Mr. Puddleham, looking very
stern,--showing his teeth, as it were, and displaying an inclination
for a parish quarrel. Fenwick, still prudent, made no objection to
the change, and dropped no word of displeasure in Mr. Puddleham's
hearing.

"I don't believe he can do it," said Mrs. Fenwick, boiling with
passion.

"He can, no doubt," said the Vicar.

"Do you mean to say the street is his;--to do what he likes with it?"

"The street is the Queen's highway,--which means that it belongs to
the public; but this is not the street. I take it that all the land
in the village belongs to the Marquis. I never knew of any common
right, and I don't believe there is any."

"It is the meanest thing I ever heard of in my life," said Mrs.
Fenwick.

"There I agree with you." Later in the day, when he had been thinking
of it for hours, he again spoke to his wife. "I shall write to the
Marquis and remonstrate. It will probably be of no avail; but I think
I ought to do so for the sake of those who come after me. I shall be
able to bother him a good deal, if I can do nothing else," he added,
laughing. "I feel, too, that I must quarrel with somebody, and I
won't quarrel with dear old Puddleham, if I can help it."

CHAPTER XXX