"Didn't you say, Albert, that it would amount almost to the sin of simony?" enquired Mrs. Mercer.
"Oh! good heavens, Ella!" exclaimed Grafton. "Do preserve your uncle from the sin of simony. That would be too awful."
The Vicar, sensitive to ridicule like most people of self-conceit, after a glance at the faces round him, turned upon his wife. "I should never have said so absurd a thing in such a connection," he said. "You are thinking of something quite different."
Ella Carruthers broke in. "My uncle has only been Bishop here for a little over a year," she said. "He has told me more than once that there has been a great deal to learn. And I know I have helped him in one or two things."
A gleam of satisfaction shone in the Vicar's eye. She seemed to be appealing to him for advice, which she could pass on, and he was quite ready to give it. "Your uncle," he said, "has spent all his life of service—hard and devoted service, I know—in large towns. Though no man could rival him in knowledge of urban clerical problems, it would be nothing to be surprised at if he were not yet fully alive to all the currents of opinion among the country clergy."
"You have lived mostly in the country, Ella," said Grafton. "If you could give your uncle a few hints as to what the clergy think about these things he might perhaps be glad of it."
"Oh, I'm sure he would," broke in Mrs. Mercer enthusiastically. "Dear Mrs. Carruthers, please try. It would be such a splendid thing. And I'm sure there's nobody who could prime you up better than my husband. He has made a life-long study of these questions, just as the Bishop has about town questions."
The Vicar almost simpered. "I wouldn't compare any knowledge of mine with the Bishop's, my dear," he said. "At the same time, in my humble sphere, I have observed, and thought, and consulted with men perhaps wiser than myself, and I think I do know the conditions of a country diocese such as this, possibly, if I may say so without being misunderstood, as well as any Bishop."
"I know my uncle is always anxious to discover the opinions of people who really know things," said Ella. "And he is certainly not above taking advice."
"I should hardly presume to offer advice," said the Vicar. "For one thing, my position as incumbent of one of the less important livings in the Diocese would hardly justify me in offering advice to my Diocesan. Personally, I am more than contented with my lot, and should never lift so much as a finger to change it. But if circumstances did conspire to move me to a higher sphere of influence, where it would not be unbecoming to lift my voice in advice, I should consider it my duty to do so, if asked, knowing that possibly I could thus serve my generation."