all be, and may I prove worthy of my vessel."

A little later the three ladies went together and rather silently down
the plank walk that led from the See House to the main road. Their
eyes were on the tapering spars of the yacht that floated so gracefully
a few hundred yards away.

"I wonder," said Mrs. Dibbott pensively, "if we really appreciate him."

"Meaning the Bishop?" demanded Mrs. Worden.

"Yes. He's a much bigger man than we realize, and he certainly gave up
a great deal to come here."

"The most eloquent preacher in Canada, isn't he, but after all, could a
smaller man do his work?"

"Perhaps, in a sort of way, but, of course, not half as well. I think,
too, that we have to remember he left the places where he met those of
his own kind, and he must miss that."

"But he loves his work."

"Only some of it," put in Mrs. Manson. "I heard him say so. He told
me he hated begging, and we all know he has to raise the money to run
the diocese as well as spend it."

Mrs. Dibbott shook her head. "A bishop shouldn't have to beg, it's
lowering. Don't you think so?"

"It would be to some," said the little woman thoughtfully, "but it
couldn't lower our bishop. As for being isolated, of course he is, but
so are the rest of us, and I shouldn't be surprised if it's the out of
the way places that need the best men, and--goodness! here's Mr. Clark."

Three pairs of very keen eyes fixed on a neat, rather thickset figure
that came rapidly toward them. It was but seldom now that Clark was
seen in town, and this invested him with more suggestiveness than ever.
He stepped off the sidewalk with a somewhat formal salute as they
passed. Knowing that he would not pause, Mrs. Dibbott turned and
looked after him with a long satisfying stare.

"Not a bit interested in us," she remarked acidly.

"Nor in any woman, I hear," added Mrs. Worden. "There's no room for
them in his life. I mean in an emotional way."

"How perfectly fascinating. I'd love to know him."

The brisk steps behind them halted at the gate where the bishop was
saying good-by to his last guest.

"I'm late, I'll not stay," said Clark apologetically.

"That's all the better for a chat. You're looking well."

"I have to be well, Bishop, for my work, and you?"

"Perhaps it's the same in a rather less dramatic field."

For a while the two walked with the mutual liking which able men
experience for each other when neither is animated by the desi