"I wish to speak to you about the hospital," continued Bold.
"Well, well, anything I can tell you I shall be most happy"
"It's about the accounts."
"Then, my dear fellow, I can tell you nothing, for I'm as ignorant as a child. All I know is, that they pay me 800l. a year. Go to Chadwick, he knows all about the accounts; and now tell me, will poor Mary Jones ever get the use of her limb again?"
"Well, I think she will, if she's careful; but, Mr. Harding, I hope you won't object to discuss with me what I have to say about the hospital."
Mr. Harding gave a deep, long-drawn sigh. He did object, very strongly object, to discuss any such subject with John Bold; but he had not the business tact of Mr. Chadwick, and did not know how to relieve himself from the coming evil; he sighed sadly, but made no answer.
"I have the greatest regard for you, Mr. Harding," continued Bold; "the truest respect, the most sincere"
"Thank ye, thank ye, Mr. Bold," interjaculated the precentor somewhat impatiently; "I'm much obliged, but never mind that; I'm as likely to be in the wrong as another man—quite as likely."
"But, Mr. Harding, I must express what I feel, lest you should think there is personal enmity in what I'm going to do."
"Personal enmity! Going to do! Why you're not going to cut my throat, nor put me into the Ecclesiastical Court"
Bold tried to laugh, but he couldn't. He was quite in earnest, and determined in his course, and couldn't make a joke of it. He walked on awhile in silence before he recommenced his attack, during which Mr. Harding, who had still the bow in his hand, played rapidly on an imaginary violoncello. "I
