How when the captain died, bailiffs and executions took possession of his premises, I have told in a previous page, nor do I care to enlarge much upon the odious theme. I think the bailiffs were on the premises before Prior's exit: but he did not know of their presence. If I had to buy them out, 'twas no great matter: only I say it was hard of Mrs. Prior to represent me in the character of Shylock to the Master of Boniface. Well—well! I suppose there are other gentlemen besides Mr. Charles Batchelor who have been misrepresented in this life. Sargent and I made up matters afterwards, and Miss Bessy was the cause of our coming together again. "Upon my word, my dear Batchelor," says he one Christmas, when I went up to the old college, "I did not know how much my—ahem!—my family was obliged to you! My—ahem!—niece, Miss Prior, has informed me of various acts of—ahem!—generosity which you showed to my poor sister, and her still more wretched husband. You got my second—ahem!—nephew—pardon me if I forget his Christian name—into the what-d'you-call'em—Bluecoat school; you have been, on various occasions, of considerable pecuniary service to my sister's family. A man need not take high university honours to have a good—ahem!—heart; and, upon my word, Batchelor, I and my—ahem!—wife, are sincerely obliged to you!"
"I tell you what, Master," said I, "there is a point upon which you ought really to be obliged to me, and in which I have been the means of putting money into your pocket too."
"I confess I fail to comprehend you," says the Master, with his grandest air.
"I have got you and Mrs. Sargent a very good governess for your children, at the very smallest remuneration," says I.
"Do you know the charges that unhappy sister of mine and her family have put me to already?" says the Master, turning as red as his hood.
"They have formed the frequent subject of your conversation," I replied. "You have had Bessy as a governess. . . ."
"A nursery governess—she has learned Latin, and a great deal more, since she has been in my house!" cries the Master.
"A nursery governess at the wages of a housemaid," I continued, as bold as Corinthian brass.
"Does my niece, does my—ahem!—children's governess, complain of my treatment in my college?" cries the Master.
"My dear Master," I asked, "you don't suppose I would have listened to her complaints, or, at any rate, have repeated them, until now?"
"And why now, Batchelor, I should like to know?" says the Master, pacing up and down his study in a fume, under the portraits of Holy Bonifacius, Bishop Budgeon, and all the defunct bigwigs of the college. "And why now, Batchelor, I should like to know?" says he.
"Because, though after staying with you for three years, and having improved herself greatly, as every woman must in your society, my dear
