Mrs Proudie had been hitherto jobbed about the streets of London at so much a month during the season; and at other times had managed to walk, or hire a smart fly from the livery stables.

‘Are the arrangements with reference to the Sabbath–day schools generally pretty good in your archdeaconry?’

‘Sabbath–day schools!’ repeated the archdeacon with an affectation of surprise. ‘Upon my word, I can’t tell; it depends mainly on the parson’s wife and daughters. There is none at Plumstead.’

This was almost a fib on the part of the Archdeacon, for Mrs Grantly has a very nice school. To be sure it is not a Sunday School exclusively, and is not so designated; but that exemplary lady always attends there an hour before church, and hears the children say their catechism, and sees that they are clean and tidy for church, with their hands washed, and their shoes tied; and Grisel and Florinda, her daughters, carry thither a basket of large buns, baked on the Saturday afternoon, and distribute them to all the children not especially under disgrace, which buns are carried home after church with considerable content, and eaten hot at tea, being then split and toasted. The children of Plumstead would indeed open their eyes if they heard their venerated pastor declare that there were no Sunday schools in the parish.

Mr Slope merely opened his eyes wider, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. He was not, however, prepared to give up his darling project.

‘I fear there is a great deal of Sabbath travelling here,’ said he, ‘on looking at the ‘Bradshaw’, I see that there are three trains in and three trains out every Sabbath. Could nothing be done to induce the company to withdraw them? Don’t you think, Dr Grantly, that a little energy might diminish the evil?’

‘Not being a director, I really can’t say. But if you can withdraw the passengers, their company, I dare say, will withdraw the trains,’ said the doctor. ‘It’s merely a question of dividends.’

‘But surely, Dr Grantly,’ said the lady, ‘surely we should look at it differently. You and I, for instance, in our position: surely we should do all that we can to control so grievous a sin. Don’t you think so, Mr Harding?’ and she turned to the precentor, who was sitting mute and unhappy.

Mr Harding thought that all porters and stokers, guards, breaksmen, pointsmen ought to have an opportunity of going to church, and he hoped that they all had.

‘But surely, surely,’ continued Mrs Proudie, ‘surely that is not enough. Surely that will not secure such an observance of the Sabbath as we are taught to conceive is not only expedient by indispensable; surely—’

Come what come might, Dr Grantly was not to be forced into a dissertation on a point of doctrine with Mrs Proudie, nor yet with Mr Slope; so without much ceremony he turned his back upon the sofa, and began to hope that Dr Proudie had found the palace repairs had been such as to meet his wishes.

‘Yes, yes,’ said his lordship; upon the whole he thought so—upon the whole, he didn’t know that there was much ground for complaint; the architect, perhaps, might have—but his double, Mr Slope, who had sidled over to the bishop’s chair, would not allow his lordship to finish his ambiguous speech.

‘There is one point I would like to mention, Mr Archdeacon. His lordship asked me to step through the premises, and I see that the stalls in the second stable are not perfect.’

‘Why—there’s standing for a dozen horses,’said the archdeacon.

‘Perhaps so,’ said the other; ‘indeed, I’ve no doubt of it; but visitors, you know, often require so much accommodation. There are many of the bishop’s relatives who always bring their own horses.’

Dr Grantly promised that due provision for the relatives’ horses should be made, as far at least as the extent of the original stable building would allow. He would himself communicate with the architect.