Mr. Jasper proving willing to speak for Mrs. Tope, Mr. Datchery, who had sent up his card, was invited to ascend the postern staircase. The Mayor was there, Mr. Tope said; but he was not to be regarded in the light of company, as he and Mr. Jasper were great friends.

‘I beg pardon,’ said Mr. Datchery, making a leg with his hat under his arm, as he addressed himself equally to both gentlemen; ‘a selfish precaution on my part, and not personally interesting to anybody but myself. But as a buffer living on his means, and having an idea of doing it in this lovely place in peace and quiet, for remaining span of life, I beg to ask if the Tope family are quite respectable?’

Mr. Jasper could answer for that without the slightest hesitation.

‘That is enough, sir,’ said Mr. Datchery.

‘My friend the Mayor,’ added Mr. Jasper, presenting Mr. Datchery with a courtly motion of his hand towards that potentate; ‘whose recommendation is actually much more important to a stranger than that of an obscure person like myself, will testify in their behalf, I am sure.’

‘The Worshipful the Mayor,’ said Mr. Datchery, with a low bow, ‘places me under an infinite obligation.’

‘Very good people, sir, Mr. and Mrs. Tope,’ said Mr. Sapsea, with condescension. ‘Very good opinions. Very well behaved. Very respectful. Much approved by the Dean and Chapter.’

‘The Worshipful the Mayor gives them a character,’ said Mr. Datchery, ‘of which they may indeed be proud. I would ask His Honour (if I might be permitted) whether there are not many objects of great interest in the city which is under his beneficent sway?’

‘We are, sir,’ returned Mr. Sapsea, ‘an ancient city, and an ecclesiastical city. We are a constitutional city, as it becomes such a city to be, and we uphold and maintain our glorious privileges.’

‘His Honour,’ said Mr. Datchery, bowing, ‘inspires me with a desire to know more of the city, and confirms me in my inclination to end my days in the city.’

‘Retired from the Army, sir?’ suggested Mr. Sapsea.

‘His Honour the Mayor does me too much credit,’ returned Mr. Datchery.

‘Navy, sir?’ suggested Mr. Sapsea.

‘Again,’ repeated Mr. Datchery, ‘His Honour the Mayor does me too much credit.’

‘Diplomacy is a fine profession,’ said Mr. Sapsea, as a general remark.

‘There, I confess, His Honour the Mayor is too many for me,’ said Mr. Datchery, with an ingenious smile and bow; ‘even a diplomatic bird must fall to such a gun.’

Now this was very soothing. Here was a gentleman of a great, not to say a grand, address, accustomed to rank and dignity, really setting a fine example how to behave to a Mayor. There was something in that third-person style of being spoken to, that Mr. Sapsea found particularly recognisant of his merits and position.

‘But I crave pardon,’ said Mr. Datchery. ‘His Honour the Mayor will bear with me, if for a moment I have been deluded into occupying his time, and have forgotten the humble claims upon my own, of my hotel, the Crozier.’