Hinton was stropping the vicar's razor with vigour and skill.
"How you do nag on about the bishop!" said Mrs. Eames. "Please leave that razor alone. The vicar cuts himself often enough as it is and if you go making it too sharp he may give himself a dangerous gash. Why on earth are you so keen on the bishop? I've no objection to bishops of course, and if there's any real reason—— It's no use expecting him to read the funeral service over a smuggler shot by a coastguard. I quite see that would be most effective but no bishop would do it."
"The idea in my mind——" said Hinton, who was arranging the vicar's toothbrush and sponge neatly on the washing stand.
He went on to give his reasons for wishing to secure the bishop as a patron.
Bishops, so he explained, inspire great confidence in the public, which is always a little afraid of being let in for something improper or a little dubious.
"If we were concerned only with the aristocracy, madam, it would be a different matter. If I may say so, speaking after many years' experience of the upper classes, there would be no objection whatever to a hint, a suggestion of the risqué."
"But, good gracious, Hinton, we're not going to do anything in the least risqué as you call it."
"Certainly not, madam. Most assuredly not. But the public—the general public apart from the aristocracy and outside of literary and artistic circles—the public which we wish to attract, is very suspicious."
Mrs. Eames did not believe that any public could possibly suspect her pageant of being improper. But Hinton insisted that he was right and that their only security lay in having at least one bishop among their patrons.
"Very well," she said at last, "I'll leave the list of patrons entirely to you, Hinton. Get that sporting earl of yours if you can. Get a few of his musical comedy actresses too. Get a bishop and a couple of custom house officers. Get the local police if you like."