Dr. Spencer, whose bright eyes glittered at every mention of the subject, assumed that he was to be the architect, while Dr. May was assuring him that it was a maxim that no one unpaid could be trusted; and when he talked of beautiful German churches with pierced spires, declared that the building must not make too large a hole in the twenty thousand, at the expense of future curates, because Richard was the first.
“I’ll be prudent, Dick,” said Dr. Spencer. “Trust me not to rival the minster.”
“We shall find work next for you there,” said Mr. Wilmot.
“Ay, we shall have May out of his family packing-box before many years are over his head.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Dr. May; “I know what I exposed myself to in bringing Wilmot here.”
“Yes,” said Dr. Spencer, “we shall put you in the van when we attack the Corporation pen.”
“I shall hold by the good old cause. As if the galleries had not been there before you were born!”
“As if poor people had a right to sit in their own church!” said Ethel.
“Sit, you may well say,” said Mr. Wilmot. “As if any one could do otherwise, with those ingenious traps for hindering kneeling.”
“Well, well, I know the people must have room,” said Dr. May, cutting short several further attacks which he saw impending.