u all? How's his reverence? Speak up, my
lord, how are the affairs of your extensive diocese?"

"My affairs," said the Archbishop, slowly, "are what might be called in
_nubibus_--cloudy, my dear boy, distinctly cloudy. I am, to adopt a
homely simile, at present under a neighbor's umbrella, which is not as
sound as it might be. Behold me, none the less, in that state of content
to which the poet Horace has happily referred--_nec vixit male qui natus
moriensque fefellit_. At this moment you discover me upon a pleasant
bridge which spans an unknown abyss. I eat, drink and am merry. What
more shall I desire?"

"And Betty here, does Betty keep out of mischief?"

Sarah answered this.

"I got him a job at Covent Garden, and he's there regular at four
o'clock every morning sure as the sun's in heaven. Don't you go thinking
nothink about Betty, Mr. Kennedy, and so I tell you straight."

"And what have you done with the Panorama, Sarah?"

She laughed loudly.

"Panorama's among the black men, them's his oysters as we're eatin' now.
Try one, Mr. Kennedy. You look as if a drop of summat would do you good,
so help me you do. Take a sup o' stout and rest yourself awhile. It is a
surprise to see you, I must say."

"A very pleasant surprise, indeed," added the Archbishop, emphatically.
"There has been no event in my life for many months which has given me
so much satisfaction. We have not so many friends that we can spare even
one of them to those higher spheres, which, I must say, he has adorned
with such conspicuous lustre."

"Oh, spare me, reverence, don't talk nonsense to-night. I am tired as
you see, tired and hungry. And I'm going to beg food and drink from old
friends who have loved me. Now, Sarah, what's it to be?"

He drew the sofa nearer to the bare table and began to eat with them.
Sarah's motherly protestations induced him to take off his coat and hang
it up in the watchman's office to dry. The same tender care served out
to him the most delicate morsels, from a generous if uncouth table, and
insisted upon their acceptance. If his old friends were hot with
curiosity to know whence he came and what he had been doing, they, as
the poor alone can do successfully, asked no questions nor even hinted
at their desire. Not until the supper was over and the Archbishop had
produced a little packet of cigars, did any general conversation
interrupt that serious business of eating and drinking, so rarely
indulged in, so sacre