't be a dunce and pretend, Scott. Anyway, I'm
not a mole; I can see which way the weather vanes are pointing. They
were all talking about it, while the convocation was going on. Ever so
many of the wives spoke to me about it, and told me that you were the
man who ought to have it."

Quite tranquilly Brenton helped himself to more butter.

"Then, knowing the Bishop's common sense, it seems highly probable to
me that I shall be the man to get it," he responded.

"You won't, unless you try for it," Catia assured him.

He shook his head. The idea of ecclesiastical wirepulling was repugnant
to his nature.

"One doesn't try for things of that kind, Catia," he answered.

"Then one doesn't get them," she retorted curtly.

It was Brenton who broke the next period of silence.

"Besides," he said, as if his sentences had followed each other without
break; "I am not at all sure that my work here is done, by any means."

"Scott!" Catia put on the cover of the sugar bowl with a defiant clash.
"Surely, you don't mean to stay buried in this little hole much
longer?"

Once more his smile showed whimsical.

"Really, Catia, I hadn't thought about it as a hole," he said. "About
my staying here or anywhere, I suppose it all depends upon the Bishop."

She pushed her chair back a little from the table, and then clasped her
hands upon the table's edge. Her attitude betokened her intention of
staying there until the matter had been fought out to a finish.

"Not one half so much upon the Bishop as it does upon yourself," she
told him firmly. "The Bishop decides things in the end; but he never
originates them. Unless you stir yourself a little and show him that
you're restless, you'll be welcome to sit for all time to come in one
corner of the diocese. In fact, you have been sitting in a corner for
two years. It is high time you showed him you were getting cramps in
your knees, and needed a higher seat to straighten them out. There is
no especial sense in your wasting your time among these people. Any
broken-down old hack ought to be all they've any right to look for."

"But not all they need," Brenton interpolated swiftly.

She waved aside the interpolation.

"It's what you need, Scott, I'm talking about," she told him. "You are
young, and you need a chance. What's more, the Bishop isn't going to
offer it to you, until you give him to understand that you expect it.
There are too many hungry mouths open for every bit of advantag