‘By the bye, Master,’ continued the lady, ‘I wonder whether Mrs Grantly would like me to drive over and inspect her Sabbath–day school. I hear that it is most excellently kept.’

Dr Gwynne really could not say. He had no doubt Mrs Grantly would be most happy to see Mrs Proudie any day Mrs Proudie would do her the honour of calling: that was, of course, if Mrs Grantly should happen to be at home.

A slight cloud darkened the lady’s brow. She saw that her offer was not taken in good part. This generation of unregenerated vipers was still perverse, stiffnecked, and hardened in their antiquity. ‘The archdeacon, I know,’ said she, ‘sets his face against these institutions.’

At this Dr Gwynne laughed slightly. It was but a smile. Had he given his cap for it he could not have helped it.

Mrs Proudie frowned again. ‘“Suffer little children, and forbid them not,”’ said she. ‘Are we not to remember that, Dr Gwynne? “Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones.” Are we not to remember that, Dr Gwynne?’ And at each of these questions she raised at him a menacing forefinger.

‘Certainly, madam, certainly,’ said the master, ‘and so does the archdeacon, I am sure, on week days as well as on Sundays.’

‘On week days you can’t take heed not to despise them,’ said Mrs Proudie, ‘because they are out in the fields. On week days they belong to their parents, but on Sundays they ought to belong to the clergyman.’ And the finger was again raised.

The master began to understand and to share the intense disgust which the archdeacon always expressed when Mrs Proudie’s name was mentioned. What was he to do with such a woman as this? To take his hat and go would have been his natural resource; but then he did not wish to be foiled in his subject.

‘My lord,’ said he, ‘I wanted to ask you a question on business, if you would spare me one moment’s leisure. I know I must apologise for so disturbing you; but in truth, I will not detain you five minutes.’

‘Certainly, Master, certainly,’ said the bishop; ‘my time is quite yours—pray make no apology, pray make no apology.’

‘You have a great deal to do just at the present moment, bishop. Do not forget how extremely busy you are at present,’ said Mrs Proudie, whose spirit was now up; for she was angry with her visitor.

‘I will not delay his lordship much above a minute,’ said the master of Lazarus, rising from his chair, and expecting that Mrs Proudie would now go, or else that the bishop would lead the way into another room.

But neither event seemed likely to occur, and Dr Gwynne stood for a moment silent in the middle of the room.

‘Perhaps it’s about Hiram’s Hospital,’ suggested Mrs Proudie.

Dr Gwynne, lost in astonishment, and not knowing what else on earth to do, confessed that his business with the bishop was connected with Hiram’s Hospital.

‘His lordship has finally conferred the appointment on Mr Quiverful this morning,’ said the lady.

Dr Gwynne made a simple reference to the bishop, and finding that the lady’s statement was formally confirmed, he took his leave. ‘That comes of the reform bill,’ he said to himself as he walked down the bishop’s avenue. ‘Well, at any rate the Greek play bishops were not so bad as that.’