Gilding, he knew, might--and, in a
London atmosphere, soon would--become black, but no boot-polish would
ever assume the appearance, even of the blackest gilt, and so he
candidly explained to the Bishop.
"I know, my boy," said the latter, patting BEN's head kindly with the
handle of his umbrella, "I know. Hence my application to your skill.
That presumptuous idea revealed as in a lightning flash the abyss on
the brink of which I stood. This demon of perverse pride must be
laid; humbled for ever. So ply your brushes, and see you spare not the
blacking!"
CHAPTER III.
BRUSTLES obeyed--not without awe, and in a short space of time two
pots of blacking were exhausted, and the roseate glow of the Bishop's
mahogany limbs was for ever hidden under a layer of more than Nubian
ebony!
"'Selp me, your lordly reverence," he cried, dazzled by the brilliancy
of the result; "but you might be took, below, for a Lifeguardsman!"
[Illustration: Bilked by a Bishop.]
"Hush," said the Bishop, though with a gratification he could not
restrain, "would you recall the demon I strove to exorcise! It is
true that the change is less of a disfigurement than I feared--ahem,
_hoped_--but after all, may not the wish to please the eye of man be
excusable? You shall receive a rich reward.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30