So, for the hope of twelve buns, he sacrificed the money which had been intrusted to him. Thus the meanest motives, in mean minds often prompt to the commission of those great faults, to which one should think nothing but some violent passion could have tempted.
The ambassador having thus, in his opinion, concluded his own and the public business, returned well satisfied with the result, after receiving the gipsy’s reiterated promise to tap three times at the window on Thursday morning.
The day appointed for the Barring Out at length arrived; and Archer, assembling the confederates, informed them, that all was prepared for carrying their design into execution; that he now depended for success upon their punctuality and courage. He had, within the last two hours, got all their bars ready to fasten the doors and window shutters of the schoolroom; he had, with the assistance of two of the day scholars who were of the party, sent into the town for provisions, at his own expense, which would make a handsome supper for that night; he had also negotiated with some cousins of his, who lived in the town, for a constant supply in future. “Bless me,” exclaimed Archer, suddenly stopping in this narration of his services, “there’s one thing, after all, I’ve forgot, we shall be undone without it. Fisher, pray did you ever buy the candles for the playhouse?”
“No, to be sure,” replied Fisher, extremely frightened; “you know you don’t want candles for the playhouse now.”
“Not for the playhouse, but for the Barring Out. We shall be in the dark, man. You must run this minute, run.”
“For candles?” said Fisher, confused; “how many?—what sort?”
“Stupidity!” exclaimed Archer, “you are a pretty fellow at a dead lift! Lend me a pencil and a bit of paper, do; I’ll write down what I want myself! Well, what are you fumbling for?”
“For money!” said Fisher, colouring.
“Money, man! Didn’t I give you half a crown the other day?”
“Yes,” replied Fisher, stammering; “but I wasn’t sure that that might be enough.”