“We pass, you observe, Mr. Casti,” cried the ex-teacher, “from the region of commerce to that of domestic intimacy.  Here Mrs. O’Gree reigns supreme, as indeed she does in the other department, as far as presiding genius goes.  She’s in all places at once, like a birrud!  Mr. Casti,” in a whisper, “I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to one of the most remarkable women it was ever your lot to meet; a phenomenon of—­”

The inner door opened, and the lady herself interrupted these eulogies.  Sally was charming.  Her trim little body attired in the trimmest of homely dresses, her sharp little face shining and just a little red with excitement, her quick movements, her laughing eyes, her restless hands graced with the new wedding-ring—­all made up a picture of which her husband might well be proud.  He stood and gazed at her in frank admiration; only when she sprang forward to shake hands with Waymark did he recover himself sufficiently to go through the ceremony of introducing Julian.  It was done with all stateliness.

“An improvement this on the masters’ room, eh, Waymark?” cried Mr. O’Gree.  Then, suddenly interrupting him self, “And that reminds me!  We’ve got a lodger.”

“Already?”

“And who d’ye think?  Who d’ye think?  You wouldn’t guess if you went on till Christmas.  Ho, ho, ho!  I’m hanged if I tell you.  Wait and see!”

“Shall I call him down?” asked Sally, who in the meantime had brought in the tea-pot, and the crumpets, and a dish of slices from the round of beef on the counter, and boiled eggs, and sundry other dainties.

O’Gree, unable to speak for mirth, nodded his head, and presently Sally returned, followed by—­Mr. Egger.  Waymark scarcely recognised his old friend, so much had the latter changed:  instead of the old woe-begone look, Egger’s face wore a joyous smile, and his outer man was so vastly improved that he had evidently fallen on a more lucrative profession.  Waymark remembered O’Gree’s chance meeting with the Swiss, but had heard nothing of him since; nor indeed had O’Gree till a day or two ago.

“How do things go?” Waymark inquired heartily.  “Found a better school?”

“No, no, my friend,” returned Egger, in his very bad English.  “At the school I made my possible; I did till I could no more.  I have made like Mr. O’Gree; it is to say, quite a change in my life.  I am waiter at a restaurant.  And see me; am I not the better quite?  No fear!” This cockneyism came in with comical effect.  “I have enough to eat and to drink, and money in my pocket.  The school may go to ——­”

O’Gree coughed violently to cover the last word, and looked reproachfully at his old colleague.  Poor Egger, who had been carried away by his joyous fervour, was abashed, and glanced timidly at Sally, who replied by giving him half a dozen thick rounds of German sausage.  On his requesting mustard, she fetched some from the shop and mixed it, but, in doing so, had the misfortune to pour too much water.