of ‘The Dragon of Wantly’, which inn was her property, having been the property of her first husband.  For some years past there had been a difficulty about the rent, things not having gone at ’The Dragon of Wantly’ as smoothly as they had used to go.  At once time the money had been paid half-yearly by the landlord’s cheque on the bank of Barchester.  For the last year-and-a-half this had not been done, and the money had come into Mrs Arabin’s hands at irregular periods and in irregular sums.  There was at this moment rent due for twelve months, and Mrs Arabin expressed her doubt whether she would get it on her return to Barchester.  On the occasion to which she was now alluding, the money had been paid into her own hands, in the deanery breakfast-parlour, by a man she knew very well—­not the landlord himself, but one bearing the landlord’s name, whom she believed to the landlord’s brother, or at least his cousin.  The man in question was named Daniel Stringer, and he had been employed in ‘The Dragon of Wantly’, as a sort of clerk or managing man, as long as she had known it.  The rent had been paid to her by Daniel Stringer quite as often as by Daniel’s brother or cousin, John Stringer, who was, in truth, the landlord of the hotel.  When questioned by John respecting the persons employed at the inn, she said that she did believe that there had been rumours of something wrong.  The house had been in the hands of the Stringers for many years—­before the property had been purchased by her husband’s father—­and therefore had been an unwillingness to remove them; but gradually, so she said, there had come upon her and her husband a feeling that the house must be put into other hands.  ’Yes, I said a good deal about it.  I asked why a cheque of Mr Soames’s was brought to me, instead of being taken to the bank for money; and Stringer explained to me that they were not very fond of going to the bank, as they owed money there, but that I could pay it into my account.  Only I kept my account at the other bank.’

‘You might have paid it in there?’ said Johnny.

’I suppose I might, but I didn’t.  I gave it to poor Mr Crawley instead—­like a fool, as I know now that I was.  And so I have brought all this trouble on him and on her; and now I must rush home, without waiting for the dean, as fast as the trains will carry me.’

Eames offered to accompany her, and this offer was accepted.  ’It is hard upon you, though,’ she said; ’you will see nothing of Florence.  Three hours in Venice, and six in Florence, and no hours at all anywhere else, will be a hard fate to you on your first trip to Italy.’  But Johnny said ‘Exelsior’ to himself once more, and thought of Lily Dale, who was still in London, hoping that she might hear of his exertions; and he felt, perhaps, also, that it would be pleasant to return with a dean’s wife, and never hesitated.  Nor would it do, he thought, for him to be absent in the excitement caused by the news of Mr Crawley’s innocence and injuries.  ‘I don’t care a bit about that,’ he said.  ’Of course, I should like to see Florence, and, of course, I should like to go to bed; but I will live in hopes that I may do both some day.’  And so there grew to be a friendship between him and Mrs Arabin even before they started.