and nephews, and now
set about the task in the mode he always had used.

"Diddle, diddle, diddle, diddle," said he, putting the child on
one knee and working away with it as though he were turning a
knife-grinder's wheel with his foot.

"Mamma, Mamma," said Julia crossly, "I don't want to be diddle
diddled. Let me go, you naughty old man, you."

Poor Mr. Thorne put the child down quietly on the ground and drew
back his chair; Mr. Slope, who had returned to the pole star that
attracted him, laughed aloud; Mr. Arabin winced and shut his eyes;
and the signora pretended not to hear her daughter.

"Go to Aunt Charlotte, lovey," said the mamma, "and ask her if it is
not time for you to go out."

But little Miss Julia, though she had not exactly liked the nature of
Mr. Thorne's attention, was accustomed to be played with by gentlemen,
and did not relish the idea of being sent so soon to her aunt.

"Julia, go when I tell you, my dear." But Julia still went pouting
about the room. "Charlotte, do come and take her," said the signora.
"She must go out, and the days get so short now." And thus ended the
much-talked-of interview between Mr. Thorne and the last of the Neros.

Mr. Thorne recovered from the child's crossness sooner than from Mr.
Slope's laughter. He could put up with being called an old man by an
infant, but he did not like to be laughed at by the bishop's chaplain,
even though that chaplain was about to become a dean. He said nothing,
but he showed plainly enough that he was angry.

The signora was ready enough to avenge him. "Mr. Slope," said she,
"I hear that you are triumphing on all sides."

"How so?" said he, smiling. He did not dislike being talked to about
the deanery, though, of course, he strongly denied the imputation.

"You carry the day both in love and war." Mr. Slope hereupon did not
look quite so satisfied as he had done.

"Mr. Arabin," continued the signora, "don't you think Mr. Slope is a
very lucky man?"

"Not more so than he deserves, I am sure," said Mr. Arabin.

"Only think, Mr. Thorne, he is to be our new dean; of course we all
know that."

"Indeed, signora," said Mr. Slope, "we all know nothing about it.
I can assure you I myself--"

"He is to be the new dean--there is no manner of doubt of it, Mr.
Thorne."

"Hum!" said Mr. Thorne.

"Passing over the heads of old men like my father and Archdeacon
Grantly--"

"Oh--oh!" said Mr. Slope.

"The archdeacon would not accept it