Mr.
Harding, however, thought the old reddish-brown much preferable to the gaudy buff-coloured trumpery moreen which Mrs.Proudie had deemed good enough for her husband's own room in the provincial city of Barchester.
Our friends found Dr.Proudie sitting on the old bishop's chair, looking very nice in his new apron; they found, too, Mr.Slope standing on the hearth-rug, persuasive and eager, just as the archdeacon used to stand; but on the sofa they also found Mrs.
Proudie, an innovation for which a precedent might in vain be sought in all the annals of the Barchester bishopric! There she was, however, and they could only make the best of her.
The introductions were gone through in much form.

The archdeacon shook hands with the bishop, and named Mr.Harding, who received such an amount of greeting as was due from a bishop to a precentor.

His lordship then presented them to his lady wife; the archdeacon first, with archidiaconal honours, and then the precentor with diminished parade.

After this Mr.Slope presented himself.

The bishop, it is true, did mention his name, and so did Mrs.Proudie too, in a louder tone, but Mr.Slope took upon himself the chief burden of his own introduction.