He was agreeably surprised to find at the first interview with the new potentate and his wife that harmonious relations were likely to exist. Mr. Banneret, as an Anglican churchman, was quite prepared to join cordially with Mr. Courtenay in promoting the welfare of the parish; promising at once liberal donations to the funds of the charitable societies, nursing clubs, and all such benevolent arrangements for the welfare of the poor. Mrs. Banneret had acted in similar positions before, and was quite willing to take a leading part in Dorcas societies, and other institutions for the benefit of widows, and labourers’ families, such as are always in a state of chronic or accidental distress in the most happily situated parishes.
The Vicar, speaking for the laymen of his diocese, was thankful, he might say, most grateful to Providence, that had so ‘shaped our ends,’ in a manner so unforeseen, while so beneficial to the church and to the needs of this long-neglected parish. Mrs. Courtenay, he needed not to say, would be only too happy to work in concert with Mrs. Banneret in all parish and church matters. She would pay her respects on an early date to the new Lady of the Manor. So the Vicar took his departure, leaving the Hall, as he told his wife, in a much more cheerful state of mind than had formerly been his experience after interviews with the ruling powers of Hexham.
Rarely, indeed, had he been able to extract subscriptions for urgent needs of the church, however strongly he might paint the discreditable state of the venerable edifice and the poverty of the village poor. Lord Hexham was uniformly polite—he could not be otherwise to the Vicar, a contemporary of his own at Cambridge, and a personal friend. But his logic was unanswerable: he had no money to spare—hadn’t had for years—never should have again, as far as he could make out. Lady Hexham was refined and courteous, but the parable was unaltered. She could hardly pay for the girls’ frocks, for the boys’ uniforms; next year they might not have bread to eat. Rents were falling; certainly the agent received them, and disposed of them mysteriously to a bank, she heard. Only a fraction seemed to come their way. Once upon a time the tenants paid cheerfully; even admitted—wonderful to relate—that they had sold their crops well, had had a good year. But even so, when butter, beef and mutton, cheese and fruit, came in from the colonies and America in overwhelming quantities, what was the use of a good season if the prices went down to depths unheard of—and stayed there? As for the agent, it was needless to think of asking _him_ to reduce a rent on cottage or holding, however small.