Those are the bishop's ideas, and I must say mine also." Mr.Harding sat rubbing one hand on the other, but said not a word.
"So much for the income, Mr.Harding.The house will, of course, remain to the warden, as before.

It should, however, I think, be stipulated that he should paint inside every seven years, and outside every three years, and be subject to dilapidations, in the event of vacating, either by death or otherwise.

But this is a matter on which the bishop must yet be consulted." Mr.Harding still rubbed his hands and still sat silent, gazing up into Mr.Slope's unprepossessing face.
"Then, as to the duties," continued he, "I believe, if I am rightly informed, there can hardly be said to have been any duties hitherto," and he gave a sort of half-laugh, as though to pass off the accusation in the guise of a pleasantry.
Mr.Harding thought of the happy, easy years he had passed in his old home; of the worn-out, aged men whom he had succoured; of his good intentions; and of his work, which had certainly been of the lightest.
He thought of these things, doubting for a moment whether he did or did not deserve the sarcasm.

He gave his enemy the benefit of the doubt, and did not rebuke him.

He merely observed, very tranquilly, and perhaps with too much humility, that the duties of the situation, such as they were, had, he believed, been done to the satisfaction of the late bishop.
Mr.Slope again smiled, and this time the smile was intended to operate against the memory of the late bishop rather than against the energy of the ex-warden; so it was understood by Mr.Harding.