I--I feared, sir, you might think I said it to his prejudice."

"Prejudice?" the Master repeated, still with his back turned, and
still scarcely seeming to hear. "But why in the world? . . . Ah,
there he goes!--and Brother Bonaday with him. They are off to the
river, for Brother Copas carries his rod. What a strange fascination
has that dry-fly fishing! And I can remember old anglers discussing
it as a craze, a lunacy."

He gazed out, still in a brown study. The room was silent save for
the ticking of a Louis Seize clock on the chimney-piece; and Mr.
Simeon, standing attentive, let his eyes travel around upon the
glass-fronted bookcases, filled with sober riches in vellum and gilt
leather, on the rare prints in black frames, the statuette of _Diane
Chasseresse_, the bust of Antinous, the portfolios containing other
prints, the Persian carpets scattered about the dark bees'-waxed
floor, the Sheraton table with its bowl of odorous peonies.

"Eh? I beg your pardon--" said the Master again after three minutes
or so, facing around with a smile of apology. "My wits were
wool-gathering, over the sermon--that little peroration of mine does
not please me somehow. . . . I will take a stroll to the home-park
and back, and think it over. . . . Thank you, yes, you may gather up
the papers. We will do no more work this afternoon."

"And I will write out another fair copy, sir."

"Yes, certainly; that is to say, of all but the last page. We will
take the last page to-morrow."

For a moment, warmed by the wine and by the Master's cordiality of
manner, Mr. Simeon felt a wild impulse to make a clean breast,
confess his trafficking with Canon Tarbolt and beg to be forgiven.
But his courage failed him. He gathered up his papers, bowed and
made his escape.

CHAPTER II.

THE COLLEGE OF NOBLE POVERTY.

If a foreigner would apprehend (he can never comprehend) this England
of ours, with her dear and ancient graces, and her foibles as ancient
and hardly less dear; her law-abidingness, her staid, God-fearing
citizenship; her parochialism whereby (to use a Greek idiom) she
perpetually escapes her own notice being empress of the world; her
inveterate snobbery, her incurable habit of mistaking symbols and
words for realities; above all, her spacious and beautiful sense of
time as builder, healer and only perfecter of worldly things; let him
go visit the Cathedral City, sometime the Royal City, of Merchester.
He will find