[xiii]
As a reward for running on the parson's errands, Trim merely requested that he might have an old watch-coat which had long hung up in the church, apparently of no use to anybody. He wished to take it home and have it made over into an under-petticoat for his wife and a jerkin for himself before winter should come on. The parson told him he was welcome to it with all his heart and soul, provided it were in the power of his Reverence to make the gift. As to that, it would be necessary to consult the parish registry. Some days later, just as the parson had discovered that the watch-coat was an ancient possession of great value and dignity, Trim popped in with it already ripped into two parts and cut out for the petticoat and jerkin, Enraged at Trim's impudence, the parson commanded him to lay down the bundle and to wait upon him the next morning in company with John the parish clerk, the churchwardens, and one of the sidesmen. The next morning at eleven, passions ran high at the rectory. Trim pleaded the parson's promise, and, failing there, enumerated his humble services as the parson's man. But all in vain. The "pimping, pettyfogging, ambidextrous fellow . . . was kick'd out of doors; and told, at his peril, never to come there again."
The allegory here is clear enough. By the watch-coat Sterne intends the Commissaryship
