The lady of the palace retired to her chamber by no means contented
with the result of her first grand party at Barchester.

CHAPTER XII

Slope versus Harding

Two or three days after the party, Mr. Harding received a note
begging him to call on Mr. Slope, at the palace, at an early hour on
the following morning. There was nothing uncivil in the communication,
and yet the tone of it was thoroughly displeasing. It was as follows:

MY DEAR MR. HARDING,

Will you favour me by calling on me at the palace to-morrow
morning at 9:30 A.M. The bishop wishes me to speak to you
touching the hospital. I hope you will excuse my naming so
early an hour. I do so as my time is greatly occupied. If,
however, it is positively inconvenient to you, I will change
it to 10. You will, perhaps, be kind enough to let me have a
note in reply.

Believe me to be,
My dear Mr. Harding,
Your assured friend,
OBH. SLOPE

The Palace, Monday morning,
20th August, 185--

Mr. Harding neither could nor would believe anything of the sort, and
he thought, moreover, that Mr. Slope was rather impertinent to call
himself by such a name. His assured friend, indeed! How many assured
friends generally fall to the lot of a man in this world? And by what
process are they made? And how much of such process had taken place
as yet between Mr. Harding and Mr. Slope? Mr. Harding could not help
asking himself these questions as he read and re-read the note before
him. He answered it, however, as follows:

DEAR SIR,

I will call at the palace to-morrow at 9:30 A.M. as you
desire.

Truly yours,

S. HARDING

High Street, Barchester, Monday

And on the following morning, punctually at half-past nine, he knocked
at the palace door and asked for Mr. Slope.

The bishop had one small room allotted to him on the ground-floor,
and Mr. Slope had another. Into this latter Mr. Harding was shown
and asked to sit down. Mr. Slope was not yet there. The ex-warden
stood up at the window looking into the garden, and could not help
thinking how very short a time had passed since the whole of that
house had been open to him, as though he had been a child of the
family, born and bred in it. He remembered how the old servants used
to smile as they opened the door to him; how the familiar butler
would say, when he had been absent a few hours longer than usual,
"A sight of you, Mr. Harding, is