Of a sudden there was a rustle in the room, and looking around to discover the cause of it, Father Higgins beheld a tall and dark man with startling black eyes, in whom he recognized Professor Heller.

“What’s yer will, sir?” demanded the Father, a good deal astonished, but not a bit frightened.

“I understand, sir, that you would like to be a bishop,” replied the professor, bowing politely, but seating himself unceremoniously.

“That’s thrue enough, sir,” replied Father Higgins, who somehow felt curiously at his ease, and disposed at once to be confidential with this utter stranger.  “I’ve often imagined meself a bishop, an’ doin’ wondhers in me office.  But it’s nonsinse.”

“What post would suit you?” inquired the visitor.  “The diocese of New York?”

“No, no,” said the father.  “I’m not ayqual to sich a risponsebility; that is, not at wanst, ye ondherstand.  I’d like best to come up to sich a place as that gintly an’ by degrays.  It’s been a drame av mine to begin my prefarmint as biship av some far-away continent or archypilago, like, an’ convart slathers av haythins an’ cannebals for a practice.  It ud plase me imagenation to prache among corrils an’ coky-nuts an’ naked crachurs.  Y’ are aware, I suppose, Misther Heller—­or Professor Heller—­av sich islands as Owyhee an’ the Marquesas, famous a’ready in the history av the Propaganda Fide.  Jist suppose me havin’ me episkepal raysedence on wan av ‘um, an’ makin’ me progresses to the others.  There be great devoshin to a spiritual father among thim simple people, I’m thinkin.’  I’d be a god to ’um, like.  Sich obeyjince ud jist shuit me.  Yes, I’d enj’y bein’ Biship av the Cannebal Islands, or even av wan av um.”

“Faith is necessary,” replied Heller.  “You must believe that you are to be Bishop of the Cannibal Islands.”

“Sure an’ it’s not aisy at this distance to belave in the islands thimselves, let alone bein’ spiritual father av the same,” smiled the priest.  “Howandiver, there’s no harrum in tryin’ to belave, an’ so here goes for the exparimint.  If ye’ll kape silence a bit, I’ll jist collect me moind on the subject, an’ we’ll see what happens.”

For a moment the gray, piggish eyes of the Father, and the black, gleaming, mysterious orbs of his visitor were fixed upon each other.  In the next moment Heller, bowing with a ceremonious air of respect, inquired, “What are your commands, my lord bishop?”

Startled by a consciousness of some wonderful change, doubtful in what land he was, or even in what age of the world, Father Higgins stared about him in expectation.  A sunny shore, scattered groves of cocoa-nut trees, distant villages of circular huts, beyond them far-stretching forests and a smoking volcano; on the hither side bays alive with carved and painted canoes, near at hand a gathering crowd of half-naked savages—­such were the objects that filled his vision.

“So this is me diocese,” he said, without feeling the least surprise.  “Well, the climate is deloightful.  Let us hope that the coky-nuts will agree wid us, an’ that the natives won’t urge upon us the blissins av martyrdom.  Professor, what may be the spiritual condition av things hereaway, do ye think?”