The dinner-party at the rectory comprised none but the Grantly family.
The marchioness had written to say that she preferred to have it so. The
father had suggested that the Thornes of Ullathorne, very old friends,
might be asked, and the Greshams of Boxall Hill, and had even promised
to endeavour to get old Lady Lufton over to the rectory, Lady Lufton
having in former years been Griselda's warm friend. But Lady Hartletop
had preferred to see her dear mother and father in privacy. Her brother
Henry she would be glad to meet, and hoped to make some arrangement with
him for a short visit to Hartlebury, her husband's place in
Shropshire--as to which latter hint, it may, however, be at once said
that nothing further was spoken after the Crawley alliance had been
suggested. And there had been a very sore point mooted by the daughter
in a request made to her father that she might not be called upon to
meet her grandfather, her mother's father. Mr Harding, a clergyman of
Barchester, who was now stricken in years.--'Papa would not have come,'
said Mrs Grantly, 'but I think, I do think--' Then she stopped herself.

'Your father has odd ways sometimes, my dear. You know how fond I am of
having him here myself.'

'It does not signify,' said Mrs Grantly. 'Do not let us say anything
more about it. Of course we cannot have everything. I am told the child
does her duty in her sphere of life, and I suppose we ought to be
contented.' Then Mrs Grantly went up to her own room, and there she
cried. Nothing was said to the major on the unpleasant subject of the
Crawleys before dinner. He met his sister in the drawing-room, and was
allowed to kiss her noble cheek. 'I hope Edith is well, Henry,' said the
sister. 'Quite well; and little Dumbello is the same, I hope?' 'Thank
you, yes; quite well.' The major never made inquiries after the august