Mr. Neefit's conduct during this period of disappointment was not exactly what it should to have been, either in the bosom¹ of his family or among his dependents in Conduit Street. Herr Bawwah, over a pot of beer in the public-house opposite, suggested to Mr. Waddle² that "the governor might be ——," in a manner that affected³ Mr. Waddle greatly. It was an eloquent⁴ and energetic expression of opinion,—almost an expression of a settled purpose as coming from the German as it did come; and Waddle was bound to admit that cause had been given. "Fritz," said Waddle pathetically, "don't think about it. You can't better the wages." Herr Bawwah looked up from his pot of beer and muttered a German oath. He had been told that he was beastly, skulking⁵, pig-headed, obstinate⁶, drunken, with some other perhaps stronger epithets⁷ which may be omitted,—and he had been told that he was a German. In that had lain the venom⁸. There was the word that rankled⁹. He had another pot of beer, and though it was then only twelve o'clock on a Monday morning Herr Bawwah swore that he was going to make a day of it, and that old Neefit might cut out the stuff for himself if he pleased. As they were now at the end of March, which is not a busy time of the year in Mr. Neefit's trade, the great artist's defalcation¹⁰ was of less immediate¹¹ importance; but, as Waddle knew, the German was given both to beer and

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