And Dr Thorne from Chaldicotes was there but without his wife, who in these days was up in London. Mrs Proudie always expressed a warm friendship for Mrs Thorne, and on this occasion loudly regretted her absence. 'You must tell her, Dr Thorne, how exceedingly much we miss her.' Dr Thorne, who was accustomed to hear his wife speak of her dear friend Mrs Proudie with almost unmeasured ridicule, promised that he would do so. 'We are sorry the Lufton's couldn't come to us,' said Mrs Proudie--not alluding to the dowager, of whom it was well known that no earthly inducement would have sufficed to make her put her foot within Mrs Proudie's room--'but one of the children is ill, and she couldn't leave him.' But the Greshams were there from Boxall Hill, and the Thornes from Ullathorne, and, with the exception of a single chaplain, who pretended to carve, Dr Tempest and the archdeacon were the only clerical guests at the table. From all which Dr Temple knew that the bishop was anxious to treat him with special consideration on the present occasion.
The dinner was rather long and ponderous, and occasionally, most dull.
The archdeacon talked a good deal, but a bystander with an acute ear might have understood from the tone of his voice that he was not talking as he would have talked among friends. Mrs Proudie felt this, and understood it, and was angry. She could never find herself in the presence of the archdeacon without becoming angry. Her accurate ear would always appreciate the defiance of episcopal authority, as now existing in Barchester, which was concealed, or only half concealed, by all the archdeacon's words. But the bishop was not so keen, nor so easily roused, to wrath; and though the presence of the enemy did to a certain degree cow him, he strove to fight against the feeling with renewed good-humour.
'You have improved so upon the old days,' said the archdeacon, speaking of some small matter with reference to the cathedral, 'that one hardly knows the old place.'
'I hope we have not fallen off,' said the bishop, with a smile.
'We have improved, Dr Grantly,' said Mrs Proudie, with great emphasis on her words. 'What you say is true. We have improved.'
'Not a doubt about that,' said the archdeacon. Then Mrs Grantly interposed, strove to change the subject, and threw oil upon the waters.
'Talking of improvements,' said Mrs Grantly, 'what an excellent row of houses they have built at the bottom of High Street. 'I wonder who is to live in them?'
'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.'
