'
'Wilfrid - Saint of Sussex, and Archbishop of York. I shall wait
till he asks me.' He waved them forward. Their feet squeaked on
the old grave-slabs in the centre aisle. The Archbishop raised one
hand with a pink ring on it, and said something in Latin. He was
very handsome, and his thin face looked almost as silvery as his
thin circle of hair.
'Are you alone?' he asked.
'Puck's here, of course,' said Una. 'Do you know him?'
'I know him better now than I used to.' He beckoned over
Dan's shoulder, and spoke again in Latin. Puck pattered forward,
holding himself as straight as an arrow. The Archbishop smiled.
'Be welcome,' said he. 'Be very welcome.'
'Welcome to you also, O Prince of the church,' Puck replied.
The Archbishop bowed his head and passed on, till he glimmered
like a white moth in the shadow by the font.
'He does look awfully princely,' said Una. 'Isn't he coming
back?'
'Oh yes. He's only looking over the church. He's very fond of
churches,' said Puck. 'What's that?'
The Lady who practices the organ was speaking to the blower-
boy behind the organ-screen. 'We can't very well talk here,' Puck
whispered.
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