more? Have you not every indulgence which you are capable of enjoying? Have you not twice better food, twice a better bed, ten times more money in your pocket than you were ever able to earn for yourselves before you were lucky enough to get into this place? And now you send a petition to the bishop, asking for a hundred pounds a year! I tell you what, my friends; you are deluded, and made fools of by wicked men who are acting for their own ends. You will never get a hundred pence a year more than what you have now: it is very possible that you may get less; it is very possible that my lord the bishop, and your warden, may make changes"
"No, no, no," interrupted Mr. Harding, who had been listening with indescribable misery to the tirade of his son-in-law; "no, my friends. I want no changes,—at least no changes that shall make you worse off than you now are, as long as you and I live together."
"God bless you, Mr. Harding," said Bunce; and "God bless you, Mr. Harding, God bless you, sir, we know you was always our friend," was exclaimed by enough of the men to make it appear that the sentiment was general.
The archdeacon had been interrupted in his speech before he had quite finished it; but he felt that he could not recommence with dignity after this little ebullition, and he led the way back into the garden, followed by his father-in-law.
"Well," said he, as soon as he found himself within the cool retreat of the warden's garden; "I think I spoke to them plainly." And he wiped the perspiration from his brow; for making a speech under a broiling mid-day sun in summer, in a full suit of thick black cloth, is warm work.
"Yes, you were plain enough," replied the warden, in a tone which did not express approbation.
"And that's everything," said the other, who was clearly well satisfied with himself; "that's everything: with these
