“She had made up her mind,” said Mr. Bintrey, again turning his wine on his palate, “and she could hold her peace.”  An amused twinkle in his eyes pretty plainly added—­“A devilish deal better than you ever will!”

“‘Honour,’” said Mr. Wilding, sobbing as he quoted from the Commandments, “‘thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land.’  When I was in the Foundling, Mr. Bintrey, I was at such a loss how to do it, that I apprehended my days would be short in the land.  But I afterwards came to honour my mother deeply, profoundly.  And I honour and revere her memory.  For seven happy years, Mr. Bintrey,” pursued Wilding, still with the same innocent catching in his breath, and the same unabashed tears, “did my excellent mother article me to my predecessors in this business, Pebbleson Nephew.  Her affectionate forethought likewise apprenticed me to the Vintners’ Company, and made me in time a free Vintner, and—­and—­everything else that the best of mothers could desire.  When I came of age, she bestowed her inherited share in this business upon me; it was her money that afterwards bought out Pebbleson Nephew, and painted in Wilding and Co.; it was she who left me everything she possessed, but the mourning ring you wear.  And yet, Mr. Bintrey,” with a fresh burst of honest affection, “she is no more.  It is little over half a year since she came into the Corner to read on that door-post with her own eyes, Wilding and Co., Wine merchants.  And yet she is no more!”

“Sad.  But the common lot, Mr. Wilding,” observed Bintrey.  “At some time or other we must all be no more.”  He placed the forty-five year old port-wine in the universal condition, with a relishing sigh.

“So now, Mr. Bintrey,” pursued Wilding, putting away his pocket-handkerchief, and smoothing his eyelids with his fingers, “now that I can no longer show my love and honour for the dear parent to whom my heart was mysteriously turned by Nature when she first spoke to me, a strange lady, I sitting at our Sunday dinner-table in the Foundling, I can at least show that I am not ashamed of having been a Foundling, and that I, who never knew a father of my own, wish to be a father to all in my employment.  Therefore,” continued Wilding, becoming enthusiastic in his loquacity, “therefore, I want a thoroughly good housekeeper to undertake this dwelling-house of Wilding and Co., Wine Merchants, Cripple Corner, so that I may restore in it some of the old relations betwixt employer and employed!  So that I may live in it on the spot where my money is made!  So that I may daily sit at the head of the table at which the people in my employment eat together, and may eat of the same roast and boiled, and drink of the same beer!  So that the people in my employment may lodge under the same roof with me!  So that we may one and all—­I beg your pardon, Mr. Bintrey, but that old singing in my head has suddenly come on, and I shall feel obliged if you will lead me to the pump.”