r Mr. Thumble, though he often had a
horse out of the episcopal stables, was not ready with his shillings
to the man who waited upon him with the steed.

He had not, however, come to any satisfactory understanding
respecting the broken knees when the footman from the palace told
him that he was wanted. It was in vain that Mr. Thumble pleaded that
he was nearly dead with fatigue, that he had walked all the way
from Hogglestock and must go home to change his clothes. John was
peremptory with him, insisting that he must wait first upon Mrs
Proudie and then upon the bishop. Mr. Thumble might perhaps have
turned a deaf ear to the latter command, but the former was one which
he felt himself bound to obey. So he entered the palace, rather
cross, very much soiled as to his outer man; and in this condition
went up a certain small staircase which was familiar to him, to a
small parlour which adjoined Mrs. Proudie's room, and there awaited
the arrival of the lady. That he should be required to wait some
quarter of an hour was not surprising to him; but when half an hour
was gone, and he remembered himself of his own wife at home, and the
dinner which he had not yet eaten, he ventured to ring the bell. Mrs
Proudie's own maid, Mrs. Draper by name, came to him and said that she
had knocked twice at Mrs. Proudie's door and would knock again. Two
minutes after that she returned, running into the room with her arms
extended, and exclaiming, "Oh heavens, sir; mistress is dead!" Mr
Thumble, hardly knowing what he was about, followed the woman into
the bedroom, and there he found himself standing awe-struck before
the corpse of her who had so lately been the presiding spirit of the
palace.

The body was still resting on its legs, leaning against the end of
the side of the bed, while one of the arms was close clasped round
the bed-post. The mouth was rigidly closed, but the eyes were open as
thought staring at him. Nevertheless there could be no doubt from the
first glance that the woman was dead. He went up close to it, but did
not dare to touch it. There was no one there as yet but he and Mrs
Draper;--no one else knew what had happened.

"It's her heart," said Mrs. Draper.

"Did she suffer from heart complaint?" he asked.

"We suspected it, sir, though nobody knew it. She was very shy of
talking about herself."

"We must send for the doctor at once," said Mr. Thumble. "We had
better touch nothing till he is here." Then they retrea