Of the Bishop’s Quandary
First, and to secure the good name of the Church which stands committed in myself, you shall return me all those purses.”
“Half had been your share without this foolish piece of comedy,” says I surlily.
“Which,” he went on, still smiling, “I will endeavour to restore to their several owners.
“Secondly, you will retire to the foot of the crossways, and I myself will watch you gallop out of sight within three minutes of the clock. Thirdly—,” quoth he.
“Thirdly,” says I, with a laugh. “Why here is all the fashion of a sermon!”
“And this,” he observed, “is a point to which I will entreat your best attention—you will rescind my invitation to the Palace, which, you will recall, was bespoke in general, not in particular. And, for corollary to this same item, Ryder,” says he, with a whimsical look, “should we meet, as by some strange chance of Heaven we may, I exact that you shall not hail me for a boon fellow before the world.”
“Offered,” said I suddenly, “like a worthy
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