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How on earth old Goodenough ever got on with it I cannot guess. But then Goodenough never had a glass of wine that any man could drink.” “What is it, Archdeacon?” said the vicar, running downstairs and leaving Eleanor above to her meditations. “This cellar must be roofed, walled, and floored,” repeated the archdeacon. “Now mind what I say, and don’t let the architect persuade you that it will do; half of these fellows know nothing about wine. This place as it is now would be damp and cold in winter and hot and muggy in summer. I wouldn’t give a straw for the best wine that ever was vinted, after it had lain here a couple of years.” Mr. Arabin assented and promised that the cellar should be reconstructed according to the archdeacon’s receipt. “And, Arabin, look here, was such an attempt at a kitchen grate ever seen?” “The grate is really very bad,” said Mrs. Grantly. “1 am sure the priestess won’t approve of it, when she is brought home to the scene of her future duties. Really, Mr. Arabin, no priestess accustomed to such an excellent well as that above could put up with such a grate as this.” “If there must be a priestess at St. Ewold’s at all, Mrs. Grantly, I think we will leave her to her well and not call down her divine wrath on any of the imperfections rising from our human poverty. However, I own I am amenable to the attractions of a well-cooked dinner, and the grate shall certainly be changed.” By this time the archdeacon had again ascended, and was now in the dining-room. “Arabin,” said he, speaking in his usual loud, clear voice and with that tone of dictation which was so common to him, “you must positively alter this dining-room — that is, remodel it altogether.