bbing.

On the whole, therefore, I found the rectory a dull house, though it
must be admitted that everything there was of the very best.

After breakfast, on the morning of which we are writing, the
archdeacon, as usual, retired to his study, intimating that he was
going to be very busy, but that he would see Mr Chadwick if he called.
On entering this sacred room he carefully opened the paper case on
which he was wont to compose his favourite sermons, and spread on it
a fair sheet of paper and one partly written on; he then placed his
inkstand, looked at his pen, and folded his blotting paper; having
done so, he got up again from his seat, stood with his back to the
fire-place, and yawned comfortably, stretching out vastly his huge
arms and opening his burly chest. He then walked across the room and
locked the door; and having so prepared himself, he threw himself into
his easy-chair, took from a secret drawer beneath his table a volume
of Rabelais, and began to amuse himself with the witty mischief of
Panurge; and so passed the archdeacon's morning on that day.

He was left undisturbed at his studies for an hour or two, when a
knock came to the door, and Mr Chadwick was announced. Rabelais
retired into the secret drawer, the easy-chair seemed knowingly to
betake itself off, and when the archdeacon quickly undid his bolt,
he was discovered by the steward working, as usual, for that church
of which he was so useful a pillar. Mr Chadwick had just come from
London, and was, therefore, known to be the bearer of important news.

"We've got Sir Abraham's opinion at last," said Mr Chadwick, as he
seated himself.

"Well, well, well!" exclaimed the archdeacon impatiently.

"Oh, it's as long as my arm," said the other; "it can't be told in a
word, but you can read it;" and he handed him a copy, in heaven knows
how many spun-out folios, of the opinion which the attorney-general
had managed to cram on the back and sides of the case as originally
submitted to him.

"The upshot is," said Chadwick, "that there's a screw loose in their
case, and we had better do nothing. They are proceeding against Mr
Harding and myself, and Sir Abraham holds that, under the wording of
the will, and subsequent arrangements legally sanctioned, Mr Harding
and I are only paid servants. The defendants should have been either
the Corporation of Barchester, or possibly the chapter of your
father."

"W-hoo!" said the archdeacon; "so Master Bol