He did not, however, at all like waiting, having perceived that Mr.Crawley, though with language courteously worded, had spoken of him as a mere messenger.
"I think," he said, "that I may, perhaps, best further the object which we must all have in view, that namely of providing properly for the Sunday services of the church of Hogglestock, by taking your reply personally to the bishop." "That provision is my care and need trouble no one else," said Mr.Crawley, in a loud voice.

Then, before seating himself at his old desk, he stood awhile, pondering, with his back turned to his visitor.

"I have to ask your pardon, sir," said he, looking round for a moment, "because, by reason of the extreme poverty of this house, my wife is unable to offer to you that hospitality which is especially due from one clergyman to another." "Oh, don't mention it," said Mr.Thumble.
"If you will allow me, sir, I would prefer that it should be mentioned." Then he seated himself at his desk, and commenced his letter.
Mr.Thumble felt himself to be awkwardly placed.

Had there been no third person in the room he could have sat down in Mr.Crawley's arm-chair, and waited patiently till the letter should be finished.
But Mrs.Crawley was there, and of course he was bound to speak to her.

In what strain could he do so?
Even he, little as he was given to indulge in sentiment, had been touched by the man's appeal to his own poverty, and he felt, moreover, that Mrs.Crawley must have been deeply moved by her husband's position with reference to the bishop's order.