Mrs. Chump let go the door-handle with a moan.  The door was closed by Gainsford, now one of the gravest of footmen.  A chair was placed for her, and she sat down, desperately watching the reader for the fall of his voice.  The period was singularly protracted.  The ladies turned to one another, to question with an eyelid why it was that extra allowance was given that morning.  Mr. Pole was in a third prayer, stumbling on and picking himself up, apparently unaware that he had passed the limit.  This continued until the series of ejaculations which accompanied him waxed hotter—­little muffled shrieks of:  “Oh!—­Deer—­Oh, Lard!—­When will he stop?  Oh, mercy!  Och!  And me burrstin’ to speak!—­Oh! what’ll I do?  I can’t keep ‘t in!—­Pole! ye’re kill’n me—­Oh, deer!  I’ll be sayin’ somethin’ to vex the prophets presently.  Pole!”

If it was a race that he ran with Mrs. Chump, Mr. Pole was beaten.  He came to a sudden stop.

Mrs. Chump had become too deeply absorbed in her impatience to notice the change in his tone; and when he said, “Now then, to breakfast, quick!” she was pursuing her lamentable interjections.  At sight of the servants trooping forth, she jumped up and ran to the door.

“Ye don’t go.—­Pole, they’re all here.  And I’ve been robbed, I have.  Avery note I had from ye, Pole, all gone.  And my purse left behind, like the skin of a thing.  Lord forbid I accuse annybody; but when I get up, my first rush is to feel in my pocket.  And, ask ’em!—­If ye didn’t keep me so poor, Pole, they’d know I’m a generous woman, but I cann’t bear to be robbed.  And pinmoney ‘s for spendin;’ annybody’ll tell you that.  And I ask ye t’ examine ’em, Pole; for last night I counted my notes, wantin’ change, and I thought of a salmon I bought on the banks of the Suir to make a present to Chump, which was our onnly visit to Waterford together:  for he naver went t’ Ireland before or after—­dyin’ as he did! and it’s not his ingrat’tude, with his talk of a Severrn salmon-to the deuce with ’m! that makes me soft-poor fella!—­I didn’t mean to the deuce;—­but since he’s gone, his widde’s just unfit to bargain for a salmon at all, and averybody robs her, and she’s kept poor, and hatud!—­D’ye heer, Pole?  I’ve lost my money, my money! and I will speak, and ye shann’t interrupt me!”

During the delivery of this charge against the household, Mr. Pole had several times waved to the servants to begone; but as they had always the option to misunderstand authoritative gestures, they preferred remaining, and possibly he perceived that they might claim to do so under accusation.

“How can you bring this charge against the inmates of my house—­eh?  I guarantee the honesty of all who serve me.  Martha! you must be mad, mad!—­Money? why, you never have money; you waste it if you do.”

“Not money, Pole?  Oh! and why?  Becas ye keep me low o’ purpose, till I cringe like a slut o’ the scullery, and cry out for halfpence.  But, oh! that seventy-five pounds in notes!”