“Franklyn and Roger.”
“They can work but they cannot design like thee,” returned Joan, eagerly. “Roger will be mad to be the best, but—unless he steals a design—there is no chance of that. Oh, thou foolish Hugh, to make me tell thee this over and over again when thou knowest it better than I do!”
Chapter Thirteen.
By Proxy.
All through the autumn and early winter Hugh’s thoughts were busy about the corbel work. He might have been impatient that it was not begun before, but that he knew the delay to have been gained for himself by Elyas, who had met with some opposition from certain canons of the Cathedral. They objected that it was unwise to put a work of such importance into the hands of a young apprentice. Every month gained, therefore, was in his favour, and the bishop remained his friend. The rough blocks were already in their places, ready for ordinary workmen to “boss them out,” and by the end of February, which had been a wet and cheerless month, this was done.
Gervase was very much in the Cathedral superintending; Prothasy complained that she never saw him, and even Joan failed to coax him out. He was like a boy in his longing to begin, saying, and justly, that he was for ever over-seeing and correcting, and got little opportunity of letting his own powers have play. To Hugh, more freely than to any, he talked of his design, discussing its details with him; but one day Wat, looking uncomfortable, pulled Hugh after him as he went down the street.
“Talk a little less loudly with the master of what his surs is to be like,” he said.
“Why?”