“I should say you’d get him, if you really want him,” I remarked.
My thoughts were switched off in another direction by Miss Prudence’s next utterance. I don’t complain of that; it was probably rightly ordained, as the vicar would have said; there’s something in a meadow and a river that resists middle age—and I don’t know that a blue frock, with eyes to match, and hair that——
“Do you happen to know how much a bishop gets?” asked Prudence.
“Not precisely, Miss Prudence. It varies, I believe—like what girls cost. All I know is that it’s never enough for the needs of his diocese.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” She looked rather troubled over this information.
“So the papers say—and the bishops too sometimes.”
“Still you wouldn’t call them exactly poor, would you?”
“I call them poor! Good Lord!” was my observation.
“You know our bishop’s Palace?”
“A charming residence, Miss Prudence—even stately.”