‘Oh, papa, I tell you fairly. I won’t have a matron for a new step–mother.’

‘You shan’t, my dear; that is if I can help it. But they are going to build another house for the matron and the women; and I believe they haven’t even fixed yet on the site of the building.’

‘And have they appointed the matron?’ said Eleanor.

‘They haven’t appointed the warden yet,’ replied he.

‘But there’s no doubt about that, I suppose,’ said his daughter.

Mr Harding explained that he thought there was no doubt; that the archdeacon had declared as much, saying that the bishop and his chaplain between them had not the power to appoint any once else, even if they had the will to do so, and sufficient impudence to carry out such a will. The archdeacon was of the opinion, that though Mr Harding had resigned his wardenship, and had done so unconditionally, he had done so under circumstances which left the bishop no choice as to his re–appointment, now that the affair of the hospital had been settled on a new basis by act of parliament. Such was the archdeacon’s opinion, and his father–in–law received it without a shadow of doubt.

Dr Grantly had always been strongly opposed to Mr Harding’s resignation of the place. He had done all in his power to dissuade him from it. He had considered that Mr Harding was bound to withstand the popular clamour with which he was attacked for receiving so large an income as eight hundred a year from such a charity, and was not even satisfied that his father–in–law’s conduct had not been pusillanimous and undignified. He looked also on this reduction of the warden’s income as a paltry scheme on the part of government for escaping from a difficulty into which it had been brought by the public press. Dr Grantly observed that the government had no more right to dispose of a sum of four hundred and fifty pounds a year out of the income of Hiram’s legacy, than of nine hundred; whereas, as he said, the bishop, dean and chapter clearly had a right to settle what sum should be paid. He also declared that the government had no more right to saddle the charity with twelve old women than with twelve hundred; and he was, therefore, very indignant on the matter. He probably forgot when so talking that government had done nothing of the kind, and had never assumed any such might or any such right. He made the common mistake of attributing to the government, which in such matters is powerless, the doings of parliament, which in such matters is omnipotent.

But though he felt that the glory and honour of the situation of warden of Barchester hospital was indeed curtailed by the new arrangement; that the whole establishment had to a certain degree been made vile by the touch of Whig commissioners; that the place with the lessened income, its old women, and other innovations, was very different from the hospital of former days; still the archdeacon was too practical a man of the world to wish that his father–in–law, who had at present little more than £ 200 per annum for all his wants, should refuse the situation, defiled, undignified, and commission–ridden as it was.

Mr Harding had, accordingly, made up his mind that he would return to his old house at the hospital, and to tell the truth, had experienced almost a childish pleasure in the idea of doing so. The diminished income was to him not even the source of momentary regret. The matron and the old women did rather go against the grain; but he was able to console himself with the reflection, that, after all, such an arrangement might be of real service to the poor of the city. The thought that he must receive his re–appointment as the gift of the new bishop, and probably through the hands of Mr Slope, annoyed him a little; but his mind was set at rest by the assurance of the archdeacon that there would be no favour in such a presentation. The re–appointment of the old warden would be regarded by all the world as a matter of course. Mr Harding, therefore, felt no hesitation in telling his daughter that they might look upon his return to his old quarters as a settled matter.

‘And you won’t have to ask for it, papa.’