probably also of Mrs. Gwynne. The minister was out of town in one
direction, and his private secretary in another. The clerks who
remained could do nothing in such a matter as this, and all was
difficulty and confusion. The two doctors seemed to have plenty to do;
they bustled here and they bustled there, and complained at their club
in the evenings that they had been driven off their legs; but Mr.
Harding had no occupation. Once or twice he suggested that he might
perhaps return to Barchester. His request, however, was peremptorily
refused, and he had nothing for it but to while away his time in
Westminster Abbey.

At length an answer from the great man came. The Master of Lazarus had
made his proposition through the Bishop of Belgravia. Now this bishop,
though but newly gifted with his diocesan honours, was a man of much
weight in the clerico-political world. He was, if not as pious, at any
rate as wise as St. Paul, and had been with so much effect all things
to all men that, though he was great among the dons of Oxford, he
had been selected for the most favourite seat on the bench by a Whig
prime minister. To him Dr. Gwynne had made known his wishes and his
arguments, and the bishop had made them known to the Marquis of
Kensington-Gore. The marquis, who was Lord High Steward of the Pantry
Board, and who by most men was supposed to hold the highest office
out of the cabinet, trafficked much in affairs of this kind. He not
only suggested the arrangement to the minister over a cup of coffee,
standing on a drawing-room rug in Windsor Castle, but he also
favourably mentioned Mr. Arabin's name in the ear of a distinguished
person.

And so the matter was arranged. The answer of the great man came, and
Mr. Arabin was made Dean of Barchester. The three clergymen who had
come up to town on this important mission dined together with great
glee on the day on which the news reached them. In a silent, decent,
clerical manner they toasted Mr. Arabin with full bumpers of claret.
The satisfaction of all of them was supreme. The Master of Lazarus had
been successful in his attempt, and success is dear to us all. The
archdeacon had trampled upon Mr. Slope, and had lifted to high honours
the young clergyman whom he had induced to quit the retirement and
comfort of the university. So at least the archdeacon thought; though,
to speak sooth, not he, but circumstances, had trampled on Mr. Slope.
But the satisfaction of Mr. Harding was,