"That depends. Do you mean to live at my table? I charge sixpence for tea, the same for breakfast, a shilling for dinner, and four-pence for supper."
"Well—I shall be most happy to live at your table."
"In that case, write a note to the governor, to say you are certain to be able to settle your affairs in the course of a week; and I will take care he shall have it the very first thing to-morrow morning."
"But I am sure of not being able to settle in a week."
"Do as you like. You won't be allowed to stay up here unless you do."
"Oh! in that case I will do so at once. Can you oblige me with a sheet of writing-paper?"
"Certainly. Here is one. A penny, if you please."
Chichester paid for the paper, wrote the letter, and handed it to the Steward.
He then cast a glance round the room; and saw three or four tolerably decent-looking persons warming themselves at the fire, while fifteen or sixteen wretched-looking men, dressed for the most part as labourers, were sitting on the forms round the walls, at a considerable distance from the blazing grate.
The Steward, perceiving that the new prisoner threw a look of inquiry towards him, said,—"Those gentlemen at the fire are Sheriff's Debtors, and live at my table: those chaps over there are Court of Requests' Men, and haven't a shilling to bless themselves with. So, of course, I can't allow them to associate with the others."