"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 matter of discord on church matters,—the archdeacon professing an opinion that the Southerners were Christian gentlemen, and the Northerners infidel 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 social 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 had 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 the least objection in the world, my lord," said Mr. Tozer, "to act as second whip."
"I'm afraid you'll find them an expensive adjunct to the episcopate," said the archdeacon. And then the joke was over; for there had been a rumour, now for some years prevalent in Barchester, that Bishop Proudie was not liberal in his expenditure. As Mr. Thorne said afterwards to his cousin the doctor, the archdeacon might have spared that sneer. "The archdeacon will never spare the man who sits in his father's seat," said the doctor. "The pity of it is that men who are so thoroughly different in all their sympathies should ever be
