“The men divide the world into gods and giants,” said Miss Dunstable. “We women have our divisions also. We are saints or sinners according to our party. The worst of it is, that we rat almost as often as you do.” Whereupon Sir George laughed and passed on. “I know, doctor, you don’t like this kind of thing,” she continued, “but there is no reason why you should indulge yourself altogether in your own way, more than another—is there, Frank?” “I am not so sure but he does like it,” said Mr. Gresham. “There are some of your reputed friends whom he owns that he is anxious to see.” “Are there? Then there is some hope of his ratting too. But he’ll never make a good staunch sinner; will he, Mary? You’re too old to learn new tricks; eh, doctor?” “I am afraid I am,” said the doctor, with a faint laugh. “Does Dr. Thorne rank himself among the army of saints?” asked Mrs. Harold Smith. “Decidedly,” said Miss Dunstable. “But you must always remember that there are saints of different orders; are there not, Mary? and nobody supposes that the Franciscans and the Dominicans agree very well together. Dr. Thorne does not belong to the school of St. Proudie, of Barchester; he would prefer the priestess whom I see coming round the corner of the staircase, with a very famous young novice at her elbow.” “From all that I can hear, you will have to reckon Miss Grantly among the sinners,” said Mrs. Harold Smith—seeing that Lady Lufton with her young friend was approaching—“unless, indeed, you can make a saint of Lady Hartletop.” And then Lady Lufton entered the room, and Miss Dunstable came forward to meet her with more quiet respect in her manner than she had as yet shown to many of her guests. “I am much obliged to you for coming, Lady Lufton,” she said, “and the more so, for bringing Miss Grantly with you.” Lady Lufton uttered some pretty little speech, during which Dr. Thorne came up and shook hands with her; as did also Frank Gresham and his wife. There was a county acquaintance between the Framley people and the Greshamsbury people, and therefore there was a little general conversation before Lady Lufton passed out of the small room into what Mrs. Proudie would have called the noble suite of apartments. “Papa will be here,” said Miss Grantly; “at least so I understand. I have not seen him yet myself.” “Oh, yes, he has promised me,” said Miss Dunstable; “and the archdeacon, I know, will keep his word. I should by no means have the proper ecclesiastical balance without him.” “Papa always does keep his word,” said Miss Grantly, in a tone that was almost severe. She had not at all understood poor Miss Dunstable’s little joke, or at any rate she was too dignified to respond to it.