Mr. Bishop was left in the vestry, apportioning out sixty separate quantities of wine—­quantities, which he deemed would be sufficient to seem appreciable to the palates, spiritual and physical, of those for whom they were intended.  You can see him, tilting up the neck of the black bottle sixty consecutive times, with no sense of the ludicrous.  Sixty—­when meted out, it did not seem quite so much as he had expected.  The silver wine-ewer was only a little more than half full.  Supposing there were not enough.  He would have to go over the consecration part of the service again.  That would make them very late.  The bishop might be annoyed if he were kept waiting for his dinner.  His lordship was a rigid Churchman, inclined to be somewhat High Church in his ideas.  It was certain that food would not have passed his lips since the previous night.  It would be a pity to find the Bishop annoyed, just when he had the opportunity of speaking to him about those little alterations of his own invention, which he felt sure would raise him in his lordship’s estimation.

Perhaps it would be wiser to add a little more wine.  It was Easter Sunday.  Many members of the congregation were farmers and farm labourers.  He had vivid remembrances in his mind of having forcibly to take the cup from the lips of such as these.  They meant no irreverence by it, of course.  He imagined it to be habit in great part with them, and a smile flickered over his face as the thought crossed his mind.

Yes—­certainly, he had better add a little more wine—­just a little.  If there were some over, why, naturally it would have to be consumed.  Wine once consecrated must not be kept.  There is that fear that it might become an object of worship, than which no other thought can seem more fearsome to the Anglican mind.  He might have to drink it; but there would only be a little in any case; yet, not being accustomed, with the poor stipend which he received, to the taste of such luxuries, it might perhaps—­it might—­well, so little as there would be, could scarcely lift his spirits.  And if it did, could that really be considered a harmful result?  On mature consideration, he thought it better to add a little more wine.  It would save them from the contingency of a longer service than was already necessary.  He poured in the little more, and the silver jug was now a little more than three parts full.

Mr. Windle’s lozenge was well dissolved and swallowed before the anthem was finished, and the service went through without a break.  The Rev. Samuel preached one of the sermons which he had written in his younger days for the season of Easter.  He bade his congregation raise their heads and begin life again with new vigour, new hope in their hearts, for this was the third day, the day their Lord had risen for their salvation.  It was, he said, both the day of promise and the day of fulfilment.  The anticipation of meeting the bishop flashed across his mind as he said it.  He felt sure that his lordship would approve of his little alterations.