bread out of your
mouth without a struggle."

Mr. Harding did not like being called lily-livered, and was rather
inclined to resent it. "I doubt there is any true courage," said he,
"in squabbling for money."

"If honest men did not squabble for money, in this wicked world of
ours, the dishonest men would get it all, and I do not see that the
cause of virtue would be much improved. No--we must use the means
which we have. If we were to carry your argument home, we might give
away every shilling of revenue which the church has, and I presume
you are not prepared to say that the church would be strengthened by
such a sacrifice." The archdeacon filled his glass and then emptied
it, drinking with much reverence a silent toast to the well-being and
permanent security of those temporalities which were so dear to his
soul.

"I think all quarrels between a clergyman and his bishop should be
avoided," said Mr. Harding.

"I think so too, but it is quite as much the duty of the bishop to
look to that as of his inferior. I tell you what, my friend; I'll
see the bishop in this matter--that is, if you will allow me--and you
may be sure I will not compromise you. My opinion is that all this
trash about the Sunday-schools and the sermons has originated wholly
with Slope and Mrs. Proudie, and that the bishop knows nothing about
it. The bishop can't very well refuse to see me, and I'll come upon
him when he has neither his wife nor his chaplain by him. I think
you'll find that it will end in his sending you the appointment
without any condition whatever. And as to the seats in the cathedral,
we may safely leave that to Mr. Dean. I believe the fool positively
thinks that the bishop could walk away with the cathedral if he
pleased."

And so the matter was arranged between them. Mr. Harding had come
expressly for advice, and therefore felt himself bound to take
the advice given him. He had known, moreover, beforehand that
the archdeacon would not hear of his giving the matter up, and
accordingly, though he had in perfect good faith put forward his own
views, he was prepared to yield.

They therefore went into the drawing-room in good humour with each
other, and the evening passed pleasantly in prophetic discussions on
the future wars of Arabin and Slope. The frogs and the mice would be
nothing to them, nor the angers of Agamemnon and Achilles. How the
archdeacon rubbed his hands and plumed himself on the success of his
last move.