The procession moved forward and mounted the staircase, Brother Warboise stumping after it at a little distance, scowling as he climbed, scowling after the long back and wide shoulders of Mr.Colt as they climbed directly ahead of him.
Around their tables in the Hundred Men's Hall the Brethren were gathered expectant.
"Buzz for the Bishop--here he comes!" quoted Brother Copas, and stood forth ready to deliver the Latin grace as the visitors found their places at the high table.
St.Hospital used a long Latin grace on holy-days; "and," Brother Copas had once observed, "the market-price of Latinity in England will ensure that we always have at least one Brother capable of repeating it." ".

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_Gratias agimus pro Alberico de Albo Monasterio, in fide defuncto_--" Here Brother Copas paused, and the Brethren responded "_Amen!_" "_Ac pro Henrico de Bello Campo, Cardinali_." As the grace proceeded Brother Copas dwelt on the broad vowels with gusto.
"..._Itaque precamur; Miserere nostri, te quaesumus Domine, tuisque donis, quae de tua benignitate percepturi sumus, benedicito.
Per Jesum Christum, Dominum nostrum.

Amen_." His eyes wandered down to the carving-table, where Brother Biscoe stood ready, as his turn was, to direct and apportion the helpings.
He bowed to the dignitaries on the dais, and walked to his place at the board next to Brother Warboise.
"Old Biscoe's carving," he announced as he took his seat.