of interest to him, who was so soon to lay aside the name of warden of Barchester Hospital.
The archdeacon took up his shining new clerical hat, and put on his black new clerical gloves, and looked heavy, respectable, decorous, and opulent, a decided clergyman of the Church of England, every inch of him. "I suppose I shall see you at Barchester the day after to-morrow," said he.
The warden supposed he would.
"I must once more beseech you to take no further steps till you see my father; if you owe me nothing," and the archdeacon looked as though he thought a great deal were due to him, "at least you owe so much to my father;" and, without waiting for a reply, Dr. Grantly wended his way to Cox and Cumming.
Mrs. Grantly waited till the last fall of her husband's foot was heard, as he turned out of the court into St. Paul's Churchyard, and then commenced her task of talking her father over.
"Papa," she began, "this is a most serious business."
"Indeed it is," said the warden, ringing the bell.
"I greatly feel the distress of mind you must have endured."
"I am sure you do, my dear;" and he ordered the waiter to bring him pen, ink, and paper.
"Are you going to write, papa?"
"Yes, my dear—I am going to write my resignation to the bishop."
"Pray, pray, papa, put it off till our return,—pray put it off till you have seen the bishop,—dear papa! for my sake, for Eleanor's!"
"It is for your sake and Eleanor's that I do this. I hope, at least, that my children may never have to be ashamed of their father."
"How can you talk about shame, papa?" and she stopped while the waiter creaked in with the paper, and then slowly
