Lady Sophia for all reply pursed her lips. She exchanged a glance with Lord Spratte.
“Of course I am the last person to say anything against a man who stands on the threshold of eternity,” added the Canon. “But between ourselves, if the truth must be told—he was nothing more than a doddering old idiot. And a man of no family.”
Than this, in Theodore Spratte’s judgment, nothing could be said more utterly disparaging.
“I wonder who’ll succeed him,” said Lionel, thoughtfully.
“I really don’t know who there is with any great claim upon the Government.” He met his brother’s bantering smile, and quick to catch its meaning, answered without hesitation. “To tell you the truth, Thomas, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Lord Stonehenge offered the bishopric to me.”
“You’d look rather a toff in leggings,” observed the other. “Wouldn’t he, Sophia?”
Lady Sophia gave the Canon an inquiring stare.
“My dear Tommy, I’ve not seen his legs for forty years.”
“I think this is hardly a matter upon which you should exercise your humour, my dear,” retorted the Canon, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Well, I hope you will accept no bishopric until you’ve made quite sure that the golf-links are beyond reproach,” said Lord Spratte.