artist who paints for
the million must use glaring colours, as no one knew better than Mr
Sentiment when he described the inhabitants of his almshouse; and the
radical reform which has now swept over such establishments has owed
more to the twenty numbers of Mr Sentiment's novel, than to all the
true complaints which have escaped from the public for the last half
century.

Chapter XVI

A LONG DAY IN LONDON

The warden had to make use of all his very moderate powers of intrigue
to give his son-in-law the slip, and get out of Barchester without
being stopped on his road. No schoolboy ever ran away from school
with more precaution and more dread of detection; no convict, slipping
down from a prison wall, ever feared to see the gaoler more entirely
than Mr Harding did to see his son-in-law as he drove up in the pony
carriage to the railway station, on the morning of his escape to
London.

The evening before he went he wrote a note to the archdeacon,
explaining that he should start on the morrow on his journey; that
it was his intention to see the attorney-general if possible, and to
decide on his future plans in accordance with what he heard from that
gentleman; he excused himself for giving Dr Grantly no earlier notice,
by stating that his resolve was very sudden; and having entrusted this
note to Eleanor, with the perfect, though not expressed, understanding
that it was to be sent over to Plumstead Episcopi without haste, he
took his departure.

He also prepared and carried with him a note for Sir Abraham
Haphazard, in which he stated his name, explaining that he was the
defendant in the case of "The Queen on behalf of the Wool-carders of
Barchester _v_. Trustees under the will of the late John Hiram," for
so was the suit denominated, and begged the illustrious and learned
gentleman to vouchsafe to him ten minutes' audience at any hour on the
next day. Mr Harding calculated that for that one day he was safe;
his son-in-law, he had no doubt, would arrive in town by an early
train, but not early enough to reach the truant till he should have
escaped from his hotel after breakfast; and could he thus manage to
see the lawyer on that very day, the deed might be done before the
archdeacon could interfere.

On his arrival in town the warden drove, as was his wont, to the
Chapter Hotel and Coffee House, near St Paul's. His visits to London
of late had not been frequent; but in those happy days when "Harding's