Unfortunately, the door of the inner room was
locked, and before he could explain what had happened, a conversation
had begun which he could not help overhearing, but which he dreaded to
interrupt.
"I'm afraid, dear Brother George," the Reverend Father was saying, "I'm
very much afraid that you are beginning to think I have outlived my
usefulness as Superior of the Order."
"I've never suggested that," Brother George replied angrily.
"You may not have meant to give that impression, but certainly that is
what you have succeeded in making me feel personally," said the
Superior.
"I have been associated with you long enough to be entitled to express
my opinion in private."
"In private, yes. But are you always careful only to do so in private?
I'm not complaining. My only desire is the prosperity and health of the
Order. Next Christmas I am ready to resign, and let the brethren elect
another Superior-general."
"That's talking nonsense," said the Prior. "You know as well as I do
that nobody else except you could possibly be Superior. But recently I
happen to have had a better opportunity than you to criticize our Mother
House, and frankly I'm not satisfied with the men we have. Few of them
will be any use to us. Birinus, Anselm, Giles, Chad, Athanasius if
properly suppressed, Mark, these in varying degrees, have something in
them, but look at the others! Dominic, ambitious and sly, Jerome, a
pompous prig, Dunstan, a nincompoop, Raymond, a milliner, Nicholas,
a--well, you know what I think Nicholas is, Augustine, another
nincompoop, Lawrence, still at Sunday School, and poor Simon, a clown.
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