"My dear," said he, "I think I shall go back home at three o'clock to-day. I shall get home at half-past eight. I don't think there's anything to keep me in London."
"The archdeacon and I return by the early train to-morrow, papa; won't you wait and go back with us?"
"Why, Eleanor will expect me to-night; and I've so much to do; and"
"Much to do!" said the archdeacon sotto voce; but the warden heard him.
"You'd better wait for us, papa."
"Thank ye, my dear! I think I'll go this afternoon." The tamest animal will turn when driven too hard, and even Mr. Harding was beginning to fight for his own way.
"I suppose you won't be back before three?" said the lady addressing her husband.
"I must leave this at two," said the warden.
"Quite out of the question," said the archdeacon, answering his wife, and still reading the shopkeepers' names; "I don't suppose I shall be back till five."
There was another long pause, during which Mr. Harding continued to study his "Bradshaw."
"I must go to Cox and Cumming," said the archdeacon at last.
"Oh, to Cox and Cumming," said the warden. It was quite a matter of indifference to him where his son-in-law went.
The names of Cox and Cumming had now no interest in his ears. What had he to do with Cox and Cumming further, having already had his suit finally adjudicated upon in a court of conscience, a judgment without power of appeal fully registered, and the matter settled so that all the lawyers in London could not disturb it. The archdeacon could go to Cox and Cumming, could remain there all day in anxious discussion; but what might be said there was no longer matter
