"Hardly," responded Nevins. "What can one expect when everybody who knows the value of an office is running for it, and everybody who doesn't is blowing horns about the runners. But I won't keep you. Good-day."
"Good-day."
Nevins turned back.
"By the way," he said to Father Algarcife, "I wish you would drop in and look at that portrait the first chance you have. I am waiting for your criticism."
"Very well. Congratulate Ardly for me."
And they separated, Salvers motioning to his coachman to follow him to the church.
Upon going inside, Father Algarcife found his principal assistant, a young fellow with a fair, fresh face, like a girl's, and a high forehead, surmounted by waves of flaxen hair. His name was Ellerslie, and his devotional sincerity was covered by a shy and nervous manner.
He greeted the elder priest with a furtive deprecation, the result of an innate humility of character.
"I went by the rectory as soon as I had seen the morning papers," he said. "Thank God you escaped unhurt!"
The irritation with which Father Algarcife had replied to Nevins's solicitude did not appear now.