The Gopher seized his plate and lifted it greedily to his face
and swallowed all at one gulp. Then he threw the plate under the table,
and began snapping his fingers loudly, just as if he had not been served
at all.

"You must not do that," remonstrated Tommy.

"Oh yes, I must," said the Gopher. And then he held up both hands and
snapped all fingers.

"What dreadful table manners the Gopher has," said the little boy to the
ex-Pirate. "Did you see what he did?"

"Yes," answered the latter. "It was very reprehensible. Worse than
anything I ever saw. Worse than the Bishop of Shinnikoree."

"The Arch-Bishop," put in the Sheep.

"Arch-Bishop nothing," retorted the ex-Pirate. "He was only a Bishop."

"But he is an Arch-Bishop _now_," persisted the Sheep.

"He's _dead_ now," retorted the ex-Pirate.

"Yes; and they carved him in stone, and put him up over the entrance of
the Cathedral, and so he is an Arch-Bishop, ain't he?"

"Well, I suppose so. Anyhow, he was mighty queer at table."

"You never told me about the Bishop before," said Tommy.

"I know it," answered the ex-Pirate. "But if I had the third volume of
my collected poems here, I could read to you about him. He was dreadful.
Worse than the Gopher."

"Can't you remember about him?" pleaded the little boy.

"Part, I guess. Let me see," and the ex-Pirate reflected in silence for
a moment. Then he began:

"There once was a Bishop
Who tossed every dish up
The moment he sat down to table;
At juggling with plates
Full of apples and dates
He was really exceedingly able.

"He would stand on his head
When he buttered his bread,
And his neighbors he gayly would banter,
While he gave a wild whoop
At the sight of pea soup
Which was served in a cut-glass decanter.

"With fish-balls and prunes,
And fresh macaroons,
The Bishop was likewise quite clever;
To pile them up high,
And swallow them dry,
Was his constant consistent endeavor.

"He could drink salad oil
By the pint, and not spoil
The perfect success of digestion;
And having well dined,
And copiously wined,
He could turn a handspring without question."

"Goodness," commented Tommy. "Where did you say he bishoped?"

"At Shinnikoree," answered the ex-Pirate.

"I did not hear that last verse," broke in the Gopher, swallowing his
sixth plate of soup. "Can