Mr.Arabin intended to keep his rooms at Oxford and to have the assistance of a curate at St.Ewold, but he promised to give as much time as possible to the neighbourhood of Barchester, and from so great a man Dr.Grantly was quite satisfied with such a promise.

It was no small part of the satisfaction derivable from such an arrangement that Bishop Proudie would be forced to institute into a living immediately under his own nose the enemy of his favourite chaplain.
All through dinner the archdeacon's good humour shone brightly in his face.

He ate of the good things heartily, he drank wine with his wife and daughter, he talked pleasantly of his doings at Oxford, told his father-in-law that he ought to visit Dr.Gwynne at Lazarus, and launched out again in praise of Mr.Arabin.
"Is Mr.Arabin married, Papa ?" asked Griselda.
"No, my dear, the fellow of a college is never married." "Is he a young man, Papa ?" "About forty, I believe," said the archdeacon.
"Oh!" said Griselda.

Had her father said eighty, Mr.Arabin would not have appeared to her to be very much older.
When the two gentlemen were left alone over their wine, Mr.Harding told his tale of woe.

But even this, sad as it was, did not much diminish the archdeacon's good humour, though it greatly added to his pugnacity.
"He can't do it," said Dr.Grantly over and over again, as his father-in-law explained to him the terms on which the new warden of the hospital was to be appointed; "he can't do it.