"Mr. Belding," he said, smiling, "I'm aware that you're very much occupied just now with important things, but I've been wondering, just the same, if you'd help me with something."
"What is it, Bishop?"
"I want a pro-cathedral, which is, as you know, that which does instead of a cathedral. Every summer the church here seems to get smaller, and I believe I could fill a bigger one."
Belding laughed. He, like the rest, knew that the largest church in the country could not hold those who flocked to hear this golden voice.
"How much money is available?" he hazarded, "and have you any idea what it is intended to spend. What about plans?"
"That's just it, we have no money and, of course, no plans, but, considering the amount of building material you use every day, it struck me that there might be laid aside enough to construct what I want without causing any hardship."
Belding hesitated, but so friendly was the look on the bishop's face and so quizzical the glance of the large brown eyes that he felt immediately prompted to build a pro-cathedral. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"History has it that not so very long ago a certain young engineer expressed that which was highest in his nature by building a cathedral. Think it over." And with that the bishop turned to the Indian agent who was moving mountainously across the lawn.
"Well, Mr. Dibbott, it seems just the other day when I arrived first in St. Marys and drove under a green arch at Mr. Filmer's dock and the entire population met me. One couldn't achieve that now. Great things are happening."
"You mean up at the works, sir?"