Gissing's face showed his elation.
“And wear a cassock?” he cried.
“Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, you must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.”
“I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How long would it take me to work up to that?”
Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially.
“Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and we'll drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and tell you exactly what your duties will be.”
Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle …
“Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all I am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have given some of them a conjectural and com-
