The Master's ivory face flushed at the question.
"That was old Warboise," he answered nervously. "I must apologise for the annoyance."
"Not at all—not at all! It amused me, rather, to be reminded that, as Visitor, I am a person in St. Hospital, and still reckoned an important one. 'Made me feel like an image in a niche subjected to a sudden dusting. Who is this—er, what-d'-ye-call-him? Warboise? An eccentric?"
"I will not say that. Old and opinionated, rather; a militant Protestant—"
"Ah, we know the sort. Shall we glance over his screed? You permit me?"
"I was about to suggest your doing so. To tell the truth, I am curious to be acquainted with the charge against me."
The Bishop smiled, drew forth the paper from his pocket adjusted his gold-rimmed eyeglasses and read—
"To the Right Rev. Father in God, Walter, Lord Bishop of Merchester.
"My Lord,—We the undersigned, being Brethren on the Blanchminster and Beauchamp foundations of St. Hospital's College of Noble Poverty by Merton, respectfully desire your lordship's attention to certain abuses which of late have crept into this Society; and particularly in the observances of religion.
"We contend (1) that, whereas our Reformed and Protestant Church, in Number XXII of her Articles of Religion declares the Romish doctrine of purgatory inter alia to be a fond thing vainly invented, etc., and repugnant to the Word of God, yet prayers for the dead have twice been publicly offered in our Chapel and the practice defended, nay recommended, from its pulpit.