Nothing was going well with him. Lady Arabella would allow nothing
near him or around him to be well. Everything with him was now turned
to vexation; he was no longer a joyous, happy man, and the people of
East Barsetshire did not look for gala doings on a grand scale when
young Gresham came of age.

Gala doings, to a certain extent, there were there. It was in July,
and tables were spread under the oaks for the tenants. Tables were
spread, and meat and beer, and wine were there, and Frank, as he walked
round and shook his guests by the hand, expressed a hope that their
relations with each other might be long, close, and mutually
advantageous.

We must say a few words now about the place itself. Greshamsbury Park
was a fine old Englishman's seat--was and is; but we can assert it more
easily in past tense, as we are speaking of it with reference to a past
time. We have spoken of Greshamsbury Park; there was a park so called,
but the mansion itself was generally known as Greshamsbury House, and
did not stand in the park. We may perhaps best describe it by saying
that the village of Greshamsbury consisted of one long, straggling
street, a mile in length, which in the centre turned sharp round, so
that one half of the street lay directly at right angles to the other.
In this angle stood Greshamsbury House, and the gardens and grounds
around it filled up the space so made. There was an entrance with
large gates at each end of the village, and each gate was guarded by
the effigies of two huge pagans with clubs, such being the crest borne
by the family; from each entrance a broad road, quite straight, running
through a majestic avenue of limes, led up to the house. This was
built in the richest, perhaps we should rather say in the purest, style