’Ah, well! you’ll soon be going where there is no more snuff.  You’ll be in need of mercy then.  You must remember that you may have to seek for mercy and not find it, just as you’re seeking for snuff.’

At the first sentence of this admonition, the twinkle subsided from Mrs. Brick’s eyes.  The lid of her box went ‘click!’ and her heart was shut up at the same moment.

But now Mr. Barton’s attention was called for by Mr. Spratt, who was dragging a small and unwilling boy from the rear.  Mr. Spratt was a small-featured, small-statured man, with a remarkable power of language, mitigated by hesitation, who piqued himself on expressing unexceptionable sentiments in unexceptional language on all occasions.

’Mr. Barton, sir—­aw—­aw—­excuse my trespassing on your time—­aw—­to beg that you will administer a rebuke to this boy; he is—­aw—­aw—­most inveterate in ill-behaviour during service-time.’

The inveterate culprit was a boy of seven, vainly contending against ‘candles’ at his nose by feeble sniffing.  But no sooner had Mr. Spratt uttered his impeachment, than Miss Fodge rushed forward and placed herself between Mr. Barton and the accused.

‘That’s my child, Muster Barton,’ she exclaimed, further manifesting her maternal instincts by applying her apron to her offspring’s nose.  ‘He’s al’ys a-findin’ faut wi’ him, and a-poundin’ him for nothin’.  Let him goo an’ eat his roost goose as is a-smellin’ up in our noses while we’re a-swallering them greasy broth, an’ let my boy alooan.’

Mr. Spratt’s small eyes flashed, and he was in danger of uttering sentiments not unexceptionable before the clergyman; but Mr. Barton, foreseeing that a prolongation of this episode would not be to edification, said ‘Silence!’ in his severest tones.

’Let me hear no abuse.  Your boy is not likely to behave well, if you set him the example of being saucy.’  Then stooping down to Master Fodge, and taking him by the shoulder, ‘Do you like being beaten?’

‘No-a.’

’Then what a silly boy you are to be naughty.  If you were not naughty, you wouldn’t be beaten.  But if you are naughty, God will be angry, as well as Mr. Spratt; and God can burn you for ever.  That will be worse than being beaten.’

Master Fodge’s countenance was neither affirmative nor negative of this proposition.

‘But,’ continued Mr. Barton, ’if you will be a good boy, God will love you, and you will grow up to be a good man.  Now, let me hear next Thursday that you have been a good boy.’

Master Fodge had no distinct vision of the benefit that would accrue to him from this change of courses.  But Mr. Barton, being aware that Miss Fodge had touched on a delicate subject in alluding to the roast goose, was determined to witness no more polemics between her and Mr. Spratt, so, saying good morning to the latter, he hastily left the College.

The snow was falling in thicker and thicker flakes, and already the vicarage-garden was cloaked in white as he passed through the gate.  Mrs. Barton heard him open the door, and ran out of the sitting-room to meet him.