"Now, for instance," said Bentinck-Major, looking very wise and serious. "What kind of things?"
"I don't want you to tell me any secrets," said Ronder. "I only want your opinion, as a man of the world, as to how things stand--what really wants doing, who, Beside yourself, are the leading men here and in what directions they work. I needn't say that this conversation is confidential."
"Oh, of course, of course."
"Now, I don't know if I'm wrong, but it seems from what I've seen during the short time that I've been here that the general point of view is inclined to be a little too local. I believe you rather feel that yourself, although I may be prejudiced, coming straight as I have from London."
"It's odd that you should mention that, Canon," said Bentinck-Major. "You've put your finger on the weak spot at once. You're only saying what I've been crying aloud for the last ever so many years. A voice in the wilderness I've been, I'm afraid--a voice in the wilderness, although perhaps I _have_ managed to do a little something. But there's no doubt that the men here, excellent though they are, are a _little_ provincial. What else can you expect? They've been here for years. They have not had, most of them, the advantage of mingling with the great world. That I should have had a little more of that opportunity than my fellows here is nothing to my credit, but it does, beyond question, give one a wider view --a wider view. There's our dear Bishop for instance--a saint, if ever there was one. A saint, Ronder, I assure you. But there he is, hidden away at Carpledon--out of things, I'm afraid, although of course he does his best. Then there's Sampson. Well, I hardly need to tell you that he's not quite the man to make things hum. Not by his own fault I assure you. He does his best, but we are as we're made...yes. We can only use the gifts that God has given us, and God has not, undoubtedly, given the Dean quite the gifts that we need here."
He paused and waited. He was a cautious man and weighed his words.
"Then there's Brandon," said Ronder smiling. "There, if I may say so, is a splendid character, a man who gives his whole life and energy for the good of the place--who spares himself nothing."
There was a little pause. Bentinck-Major took advantage of it to look graver than ever.
"He strikes you like that, does he?" he said at last. "Well, in many ways I think you're right. Brandon is a good friend of mine--I may say that he thoroughly appreciates what I've done for this place. But he is-- quite between ourselves--how shall I put it?--just a little autocratic. Perhaps that's too strong a word, but he is, some think, a little too inclined to fancy that he runs the Cathedral! That, mind you, is only the opinion of some here, and I don't know that I should entirely associate myself with it, but perhaps there is something in it. He is, as you can see, a man of strong will and, again between ourselves, of a considerable temper. This will not, I'm sure, go further than ourselves?"
"Absolutely not," said Ronder.