telling a story. If Mr Harding is fool enough to tell his tale, we can also tell ours. The place was offered to him, and he refused it. It has now been given to someone else, and there’s an end of it. At least, I should think so.’

‘Well, my dear, I rather believe you are right;’ said the bishop, and sneaking out of the room, he went down stairs, troubled in his mind as to how he should receive the archdeacon on the morrow. He felt himself not very well just at present; and began to consider that he might, not improbably, be detained in his room the next morning by an attack of bile. He was, unfortunately, very subject to bilious annoyances.

‘Mr Slope, indeed! I’ll Slope him,’ said the indignant matron to her listening progeny. ‘I don’t know what has come to Mr Slope. I believe he thinks he is to be Bishop of Barchester himself, because I have taken him by the hand, and got your father to make him his domestic chaplain.’

‘He was always full of impudence,’ said Olivia; ‘I told you so once before, mamma.’ Olivia, however, had not thought him too impudent when once before he had proposed to make her Mrs Slope.

‘Well, Olivia, I always thought you liked him,’ said Augusta, who at that moment had some grudge against her sister. ‘I always disliked the man because I think him thoroughly vulgar.’

‘There you’re wrong,’ said Mrs Proudie; ‘he’s not vulgar at all; and what is more, he is a soul–stirring, eloquent preacher; but he must be taught to know his place if he is to remain in this house.’

‘He has the horridest eyes I ever saw in a man’s head,’ said Netta; ‘and I tell you what, he’s terribly greedy; did you see the current pie he ate yesterday?’

When Mr Slope got home he soon learnt from the bishop, as much from his manner as his words, that Mrs Proudie’s behests in the matter of the hospital were to be obeyed. Dr Proudie let fall something as to ‘this occasion only,’ and ‘keeping all affairs about patronage exclusively in his own hands.’ But he was quite decided about Mr Harding; and as Mr Slope did not wish to have both the prelate and the prelatess against him, he did not at present see that he could do anything but yield.

He merely remarked that he would of course carry out the bishop’s views, and that he was quite sure that if the bishop trusted to his own judgment things in the diocese would certainly be well ordered. Mr Slope knew that if you hit a nail on the head often enough, it will penetrate at last.

He was sitting alone in his room on the same evening when a light knock was made on his door, and before he could answer it the door was opened, and his patroness appeared. He was all smiles in a moment, but so was not she also. She took, however, the chair that was offered to her, and thus began her expostulation :–

‘Mr Slope, I did not at all approve your conduct the other night with that Italian woman. Any one would have thought that you were her lover.’

‘Good gracious, my dear madam,’ said Mr Slope, with a look of horror. ‘Why, she is a married woman.’

‘That’s more than I know,’ said Mrs Proudie; ‘however she chooses to pass for such. But married or not married, such attention as you paid her was improper. I cannot believe that you would wish to give offence in my drawing–room, Mr Slope; but I owe it to myself and my daughters to tell you that I disapprove your conduct.’

Mr Slope opened wide his huge protruding eyes, and stared out of them with a look of well–dignified surprise. ‘Why, Mrs Proudie,’ said he, ‘I did but fetch her something to eat when she was hungry.’

‘And you have called on her since,’ continued she, looking at the culprit with the stern look of a detective policeman in the act of declaring himself.