"Oh, of course, of course! Still—"
"I suggest that, living as he does on the Church's benefaction, eating the bread of her charity—"
The Chaplain paused, casting about for a third phrase to express Brother Warboise's poor dependence.
The Master smiled whimsically.
"'The bread'—that's just it, he would tell you… And Alberic de Blanchminster, moreover, was a layman, not even in any of the minor orders; so that, strictly speaking—"
"But he left his wealth expressly to be administered by the Church. … Will you forgive me, Master, if I repeat very respectfully the suggestion I made at the beginning? If you could see your way to be celebrant at the early office, your mere presence would silence these mutineers. The Brethren respect your authority without question, and, the ice once broken, they would come to heel as one man."
The Master shook his head tremulously, in too much of a flurry even to note the Chaplain's derangement of metaphors.
"You cannot guess how early rising upsets me. Doctor Ainsley, indeed, positively forbids it.… I can sympathise, you see, with Ibbetson… and, for Brother Warboise, let us always remember that St. Hospital was not made, and cannot be altered, in a day—even for the better. Like England, it has been built by accretions, by traditions; yes, and by traditions that apparently conflict—by that of Brother Ingman, among others.…
"We who love St. Hospital," continued the Master, still tremulously, "have, I doubt not, each his different sense of the genius loci. Warboise finds it, we'll say, in the person of Peter Ingman, Protestant and martyr. But I don't defend his behaviour. I will send for him to-morrow, and talk to him. I will talk to him very severely."