As Mr.Thumble did not at once enter the room, Mr.Crawley stalked to the door, and stood with it open in his hand.

Though he knew Mr.Thumble's person, he was not acquainted with him, and therefore he simply bowed to the visitor, bowing more than once or twice with a cold courtesy, which did not put Mr.
Thumble altogether at his ease.

"My name is Mr.Thumble," said the visitor,--"The Reverend Caleb Thumble," and he held the bishop's letter in his hand.

Mr.Crawley seemed to take no notice of the letter, but motioned Mr.Thumble with his hand into the room.
"I suppose you have come over from Barchester this morning ?" said Mrs.Crawley.
"Yes, madam,--from the palace." Mr.Thumble, though a humble man in positions in which he felt that humility would become him,--a humble man to his betters, as he himself would have expressed it,--had still about him something of that pride which naturally belonged to those clergymen who were closely attached to the palace at Barchester.

Had he been sent on a message to Plumstead,--could any such message from Barchester palace have been possible, he would have been properly humble in his demeanour to the archdeacon, or to Mrs.Grantly had he been admitted to the august presence of that lady; but he was aware that humility would not become him on his present mission; he had been expressly ordered to be firm by Mrs.Proudie, and firm he meant to be; and therefore, in communicating to Mrs.Crawley the fact that he had come from the palace, he did load the tone of his voice with something of dignity which Mr.Crawley might perhaps be excused for regarding as arrogance.
"And what does the 'palace' want with me ?" said Mr.Crawley.