‘I remember when that was the very worst part of town,’ said Dr Thorne.

’And now they’re asking seventy pounds apiece for houses which did not cost above six hundred each to build,’ said Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, with that seeming dislike of modern success which is evinced by most of the elders of the world.

‘And who is to live in them,’ asked Mrs Grantly.

‘Two have them have been already taken by clergymen,’ said the bishop, in a tone of triumph.

‘Yes,’ said the archdeacon, ’and the houses in the Close which used to be the residences of the prebendaries have been leased out to tallow-chandlers and retired brewers.  That comes of the working of the Ecclesiastical Commission.’

‘And why not?’ demanded Mrs Proudie.

’Why not, indeed, if you like to have tallow-chandlers next door to you?’ said the archdeacon.  ’In the old days, we would sooner have had our brethren near to us.’

’There is nothing, Dr Grantly, so objectionable in a cathedral town as a lot of idle clergymen,’ said Mrs Proudie.

‘It is beginning to be a question to me,’ said the archdeacon, ’whether there is any use in clergymen at all for the present generation.’

‘Dr Grantly, those cannot be your real sentiments,’ said Mrs Proudie.  Then Mrs Grantly, working hard in her vocation as a peacemaker, changed the conversation again and began to talk of the American war.  But even that was made a matter of discord on church matters—­the archdeacon professing an opinion that the Southerners were Christian gentlemen, and the Northerners idle snobs; whereas Mrs Proudie had an idea that the Gospel was preached with genuine zeal in the Northern States.  And at each such outbreak the poor bishop would laugh uneasily, and say a word or two to which no one paid much attention.  And so the dinner went on, not always in the most pleasant manner for those who preferred continued good-humour to the occasional excitement of a half-suppressed battle.

Not a word was said about Mr Crawley.  When Mrs Proudie and the ladies left the dining-room, the bishop strove to get up a little lay conversation.  He spoke to Mr Thorne about his game, and to Dr Thorne about his timber, and even to Mr Gresham about his hounds.  ’It is not so very many years, Mr Gresham,’ said he, ’since the Bishop of Barchester was expected to keep hounds himself,’ and the bishop laughed at his own joke.

‘Your lordship shall have them back at the palace next season,’ said young Frank Gresham, ‘if you will promise to do the county justice.’

‘Ha, ha, ha!’ laughed the bishop.  ‘What do you say, Mr Tozer?’ Mr Tozer was the chaplain on duty.

‘I have not least objection in the world, my lord,’ said Mr Tozer, ’to act as second whip.’