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It was a known fact that the archdeacon's solicitude about the Plumstead covers was wholly on behalf of his son the major. The major himself knew this thoroughly, and felt that his father's present special anxiety was intended as a corroboration of the tidings conveyed in his mother's letter. Every word so uttered was meant to have reference to his son's future residence in the country.
It would be too long to tell now how gradually had come about that changed state of things which made such a visit possible. Mr Crawley had at first declared that such a thing was quite out of the question. If St Ewold's was to depend upon it St Ewold's must be given up. And I think that it would have been impossible for him to go direct from Hogglestock to Plumstead.
The lady was Mrs. Runciman, and she walked on to the house, feeling very much annoyed, her thin lips screwed into a disagreeable pucker and her eyes flashing angrily. "I thought that I told you I did not care to have those Plumstead children hanging about the place," she remarked in an acid tone to her husband, whom she met in the hall as she entered by the big front door.
Whether the major intended to remain at home or to live at Pau, the subject of Mr Harding's health was a natural topic for conversation between him and his father; but when his father stopped suddenly, and began to tell him how a fox had been trapped on Darvell's farm, "and of course it was a Plumstead fox, there can be no doubt that Flurry is right about that;" when the archdeacon spoke of this iniquity with much warmth, and told his son how he had at once written off to Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, and how Mr Thorne had declared that he didn't believe a word of it, and how Flurry had produced the pad of the fox, with the marks of the trap on the skin, then the son began to feel that the ground was becoming very warm, and that he could not go on much longer without rushing into details about Grace Crawley.
"Are you Miss Plumstead, and did you expect to meet your father here?" he asked kindly, while Sylvia slipped her arms from his neck and looked very confused, for it is not pleasant to rush about the world hugging the wrong people, and her blushes were a sight to see as she stammered out an incoherent apology for her blunder.
He had on a former occasion taken upon himself to advise that Grace Crawley should not be entertained at Framley, and now it seemed that he had come all the way from Plumstead to say something further in the same strain. Lady Lufton, if he had anything further to say of that kind, would listen to him as a matter of course. She would listen to him and reply to him without temper.
"Have you got good water out at Plumstead, Mr. Archdeacon?" said the bishop by way of changing the conversation. "Pretty good," said Dr. Grantly. "But by no means so good as his wine, my lord," said a witty minor canon. "Nor so generally used," said another; "that is, for inward application." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the bishop, "a good cellar of wine is a very comfortable thing in a house."
He had been in the room nearly an hour when he did at last find himself standing close to Lady Dumbello: close to her, and without any other very near neighbour. "I should hardly have expected to find you here," he said. "Nor I you," she answered. "Though, for the matter of that, we are both near our own homes." "I am not near mine." "I meant Plumstead; your father's place."
He said a word or two to Mr Chadwick, and then finding, as he expected, the petition lying in his father's library, he wrote a short answer to the men, in which he told them that they had no evils to redress, but rather great mercies for which to be thankful; and having seen the bishop sign it, he got into his brougham and returned home to Mrs Grantly, and Plumstead Episcopi.
"Very," said Eleanor, who never in her life had passed a more unpleasant day. "I hope Mr. Harding has enjoyed himself." "Oh, yes, very much," said Eleanor, who had not seen her father since she parted from him soon after her arrival. "He returns to Barchester to-night, I suppose." "Yes, I believe so that is, I think he is staying at Plumstead." "Oh, staying at Plumstead," said Mr. Arabin.
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