“And now,” Bishop Bitton continued, “we must know to whom thou wouldst confide it. The other warden, John Hamlyn, ranks next to thee.” But it was evident that Gervase would have none of John Hamlyn.
“Walter Bennet?”
No.
“Well, it is natural thou wouldst keep it in thine own yard. William Franklyn, thy head man?”
Still no.
The bishop pondered; named two other skilled workmen, and received no assent.
“Thou thinkest well of thy Roger? Nay, again!—Wat?—who remains, goodman? Thy prentice Hugh is too young.”
But to the good bishop’s amazement Elyas, looking eagerly at him, raised, not the finger only, but the whole hand.
“Hugh! Thou wouldst choose Hugh! Bethink thee that he is but a prentice, and when we gave him the work it was thought that thou wouldst advise and help him.”
Still there could be no doubt that this was the master’s desire; Hugh and none but Hugh was to carry out his design, and carve his corbel. The bishop shook his head doubtfully, but he could not gainsay Elyas; there was so much relief apparent in his face, and his lips moved as if in thankfulness.