"
"His real name is Jones. Why do you start? You have heard it
before?"
John had started, thinking of Jinny Jones, Golly's deserted and
self-immolated friend.
"It is an uncommon name," he stammered--"for a monastery, I mean."
"He is or was an uncommon man!" said the Superior gravely. "But,"
he added resignedly, "we cannot pick and choose our company here.
Most of us have done something and have our own reasons for this
retreat. Brother Polygamus escaped here from the persecutions of
his sixth wife. Even I," continued the Superior with a gentle
smile, putting his feet comfortably on the mantelpiece, "have had
my little fling, and the dear boys used to say--ahem!--but this is
mere worldly vanity. You alone, my dear son, he went on with
slight severity, "seem to be wanting in some criminality, or--shall
I say?--some appropriate besetting sin to qualify you for this holy
retreat. An absolutely gratuitous and blameless idiocy appears to
be your only peculiarity, and for this you must do penance. From
this day henceforth, I make you doorkeeper! Go on with your
shoveling at present, and shut the door behind you; there's a
terrible draught in these corridors."
For three days John Gale underwent an agony of doubt and
determination, and it still snowed in Bishopsgate Street.
On the fourth evening he went to Brother Bones.
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