"They tell me," he said, when Raridan had concluded by flinging the whole matter upon his clerical caller with an air of arraigning the entire episcopate, "that you're a pretty fair lawyer, Warry, only you won't work. And I hear occasionally that you're about to embrace the ministry. Now, just think what a time I'd have with you on my hands! You couldn't get the water hot enough for me. Isn't he ungracious"—turning to Saxton—"when I came here for rest and recreation, to put me on trial for my life? You ought to know, young man, that a bishop can be tried only by his peers."
Raridan threw down his paper, and rang for the Chinaman.
"When I embrace the ministry under you, Bishop, you may be sure that I'll be humble enough to be good."
The Chinaman brought a variety of liquids, from which they helped themselves.
"Don't be afraid of the Scotch, Saxton," said Raridan, "the bishop has seen the bottle before."
The bishop, who was pouring seltzer on his lemon juice, smiled tolerantly at Raridan's chatter, with whose temper and quality he had long been familiar, and addressed himself to Saxton. He liked young men, and had an agreeable way of drawing them out and making them talk about themselves. When it was disclosed that Saxton had been in the cattle business, the bishop showed an intimate knowledge of the range and its ways.
"You see, the bishop's ridden over most of the cattle country in his day," explained Raridan.
"And evidently not all in Pullman cars," said Saxton.
"I'm considered a heavy load for a cow pony," said the bishop, smiling down at his great bulk, "so they used sometimes to find a mule for me."