When he was gone the Bishop suggested a quiet stroll in the home-park, and the two old divines fared forth to take the benediction of evening, still keeping good grave converse as they paced side by side.
"My dear Eustace," said the Bishop (they were friends of long standing, and in private used Christian names in place of titles), "confess, now that this business is over, it was not so bad as you feared." The Master respired the cool air with a quiet sigh.
"No, Walter, it was not so bad as I feared.

But having ruled all these years without question, you understand--" "You have certainly not ruled all these years for nothing.
They were honest fellows, and made it pretty plain that they loved you.

It does not rankle, I hope ?" "No." Master Blanchminster drew another deep breath and emitted it as if expelling the last cloudy thought of resentment.
"No," he repeated; "I believe I may say that it rankles no longer.
They are honest fellows--I am glad you perceived that." "One could read it in all of them, saving perhaps that odd fellow who acted as spokesman.

Brother--er--Copas?
.

.