“Yes, to see a terrier that a man wanted to sell. Well, I had a new topper and no umbrella, an’ of course it began to rain. ‘By Jove,’ I said, ‘I’m hanged if I won’t go and legislate for ten minutes.’ I saw it was only a shower. Well, I walked in and somebody asked who the dickens I was. Upon my word, I was almost ashamed to say; I look too bogus, Theodore.” “It’s not the name that makes the man,” said the Canon, sententiously. “A rose by any other appellation would smell as sweet.” “There you’re wrong, but I won’t argue it out. Well, I went in and found twenty old buffers lying about on red benches. Half of them were asleep, and one was mumblin’ away in his beard. ‘Good Lord,’ I said, ‘who are their tailors?’ Then I said to myself: ‘Shall I stay here and listen to their twaddle or shall I get my hat wet?’ Suddenly I had an inspiration. ‘By Jove,’ I thought, ‘I’ll take a cab.’” “And that, Sophia, is the head of our house!” said the Canon, in icy tones. “Thomas, second Earl Spratte of Beachcombe.” But these words were hardly out of his mouth, when there was a noisy ring at the bell of the front-door. Canon Spratte started nervously. He collected himself to receive the expected messenger. Then came the sound of voices in the hall, and the Canon put up his hand to request silence. “Who can that be?” he asked. Some one was heard running up the stairs and the door was burst open by Lionel, for once in his life hurried and disturbed. “Oh, it’s only you!” said Canon Spratte, unable to conceal his disappointment. “I don’t know why on earth you ring the bell as though the house were on fire.” But Lionel waited to make no excuses. “I say, father, is it true about Barchester?” “Is what true?” he asked, uncertain whether to be triumphant or dismayed. “It’s announced that Dr. Gray, the headmaster of Harbin, has been appointed.” “Impossible!” exclaimed the Canon, incredulously. “A trumpery headmaster who teaches ignorant school-boys their A B C.” “It’s in the evening paper.” “Oh, it’s ridiculous; it can’t be true. I make the best of my fellow men, and I cannot bring myself to believe that Lord Stonehenge can be so foolish and wicked.” “The _Westminster Gazette_ says it’s a capital appointment.” “The _Westminster_ is a Radical paper, Lionel, and will say anything. For all I know Gray may be a Radical too. I tell you it’s preposterous. He’s little better than an imbecile and a man of no family. A fool, a school-master! I know innumerable things against him but nothing in his favour--except that he was once tutor to one of Stonehenge’s ill-mannered brats. I cannot think the Government could be so grossly idiotic as to give an important bishopric to a man of Gray’s powers. Powers? They’re not powers; he’s the most ordinary and stupid man I’ve ever known. He’s stupider than a churchwarden.” “I confess I think it rather bad taste of Lord Stonehenge, considering that you dined with him only the other day,” murmured Lady Sophia.