"They are tenants of his," said the lawyer with sneering contempt, "and want to stand in favour with him."
There was a laugh in the body of the hall, and the chairman looked indignantly at that direction. Quite a respectable audience had gathered in the space reserved for the public, drawn by curiosity to hear what Lord Stranleigh would say. The laugh came from Robert Smythe, the unsuccessful rival to Hiram Greenleaves, who had a practical monopoly of the grocery trade. Smythe's customers were mostly the farm labourers and poor people of the town, and, being an outspoken man, he did not conceal his sympathy with them in his condemnation of the majority of the Council.
"What are you pleased to laugh at, Mr. Smythe?" asked the chairman, icily.
"I was laughing when Timmins said that Bennet and Grice were tenants of Lord Stranleigh. Why, you wise-heads, you're all tenants of Lord Stranleigh; at least, all that live on my side and your side of the street, Greenleaves."
"I hold a lease, he can't hurt me," said the chairman, but, nevertheless, he became a little green about the gills, as he remembered that a landlord has still the power in Britain. And so the Council adjourned, not quite so satisfied with its triumphs as it had expected.
