uperhuman solemnity, he said, first, "Nothing," and then "Nothing
whatever."

By and by, however, I had a sense come over me as though I were nearer
the consummation of all things than I had ever yet been. The room seemed
to grow dark, as an expression came over Dr Skinner's face, which showed
that he was about to speak. The expression gathered force, the room grew
darker and darker. "Stay," he at length added, and I felt that here at
any rate was an end to a suspense which was rapidly becoming unbearable.
"Stay--I may presently take a glass of cold water--and a small piece of
bread and butter."

As he said the word "butter" his voice sank to a hardly audible whisper;
then there was a sigh as though of relief when the sentence was
concluded, and the universe this time was safe.

Another ten minutes of solemn silence finished the game. The Doctor rose
briskly from his seat and placed himself at the supper table. "Mrs
Skinner," he exclaimed jauntily, "what are those mysterious-looking
objects surrounded by potatoes?"

"Those are oysters, Dr Skinner."

"Give me some, and give Overton some."

And so on till he had eaten a good plate of oysters, a scallop shell of
minced veal nicely browned, some apple tart, and a hunk of bread and
cheese. This was the small piece of bread and butter.

The cloth was now removed and tumblers with teaspoons in them, a lemon or
two and a jug of boiling water were placed upon the table. Then the
great man unbent. His face beamed.

"And what shall it be to drink?" he exclaimed persuasively. "Shall it be
brandy and water? No. It shall be gin and water. Gin is the more
wholesome liquor."

So gin it was, hot and stiff too.

Who can wonder at him or do anything but pity him? Was he not
head-master of Roughborough School? To whom had he owed money at any
time? Whose ox had he taken, whose ass had he taken, or whom had he
defrauded? What whisper had ever been breathed against his moral
character? If he had become rich it was by the most honourable of all
means--his literary attainments; over and above his great works of
scholarship, his "Meditations upon the Epistle and Character of St Jude"
had placed him among the most popular of English theologians; it was so
exhaustive that no one who bought it need ever meditate upon the subject
again--indeed it exhausted all who had anything to do with it. He had
made 5000 pounds by this work alone, and would very likely make another