So affected were both Harry and Tommy by Mr. Barlow's discourse that they begged to be allowed to quit a place which only aroused so much sadness in the breast of their beloved preceptor. As they were leaving, Mr. Barlow paid a shilling for some refreshment which he had taken, whereupon the waiter begged to be remembered, which Mr. Barlow, being blessed with a good memory, willingly consented to do. But the waiter candidly explaining that he was expecting a trifle for his trouble, Mr. Barlow could not refrain from expostulating with the honest fellow on the absurdity of such a system, and informed the boys, that, in the old and palmy days of Evans's there was no charge for admission, and the attention bestowed on visitors being admirable, it was a pleasure to bestow some gratuity upon the attendants, which was always received by the money collector at the door with a grateful "I thank you, Sir. Good night, Sir."
While Mr. Barlow was thus addressing Masters Harry and Tommy, the waiter was summoned to a distant quarter of the room, whereupon they ascended the steps, and found themselves in the Piazza of Covent Garden.
"Farewell, Evans's!" said Mr. Barlow, sadly; "I know not that I shall darken thy doors again!"
"What you were saying, Sir," observed Harry on their reaching their lodgings, "reminds me of the story of Tigranes and the Amphibious Black."
Mr. Barlow. I do not think Tommy Merton has heard it.
Harry. Well, you must know, Master Tommy——
But Tommy had gone straight up-stairs to bed.
Mr. Barlow, who knew the story by heart, having, indeed, himself told it to Master Harry, then took his candle, and wishing Harry a very good night, retired.