Probably no greater event had ever happened within the memory of Stepney Green than the arrival of Miss Messenger's carriage to take away the illustrious pair from the boarding-house. Mrs. Bormalack felt, with a pang, when she saw the pair of grays, with the coachman and footman on the box, actually standing before her own door, for all to see, as if she had not thoroughly appreciated the honor of having a peer and his consort residing under her roof, and paying every week for board and lodging the moderate sum of—but she could not bear to put it into words. Now, however, they were going.
His lordship, in his new frock-coat tightly buttoned, stood, looking constrained and stiff, with one hand on the table and the other thrust into his breast, like a certain well-known statue of Washington. His wife had instructed him to assume this attitude. With him were Daniel Fagg, the professor, and Harry, the rest of the boarders being engaged in their several occupations. Mrs. Bormalack was putting the final touches to Lady Davenant's morning toilet.
"If I was a lord," said Daniel, "I should become a great patron to discoverers. I would publish their works for them."
"I will, Mr. Fagg, I will," said his lordship; "give me time to look around and see how the dollars come in. Because, gentlemen, as Clara Martha—I mean her ladyship—is not ready yet, there is time for me to explain that I don't quite know what is to happen next, nor where those dollars are to come from, unless it is from the Davenant estates. But I don't think, Mr. Fagg, that we shall forget old friends. A man born to a peerage, that is an accident, or the gift of Providence; but to be a Hebrew scholar comes from genius. When a man has been a school-teacher for near upon forty years he knows what genius means—and it's skurse, even in Amer'ca."
"Then, my lord," said Daniel, producing his note-book, "I may put your lordship's name down for——how many copies?"
"Wal, Mr. Fagg, I don't care how many copies you put my name down for, provided you don't ask for payment until the way is clear. I don't suppose they will play it so low on a man as to give him his peerage without a mite of income, even if it has to be raised by a tax on something."
"American beef will have to be taxed," said Harry. "Never fear, my lord, we will pull you through somehow. As Miss Messenger said, 'moral certainty' is a fine card to play, even if the committee of the House of Lords don't recognize the connection."
The professor looked guilty, thinking of that "Roag in Grane," Saturday Davenant, wheelwright, who went to the American colonies.
Then her ladyship appeared complete and ready, dressed in her black silk with a fur cloak and a magnificent muff of sable—stately, gracious, and happy. After her, Mrs. Bormalack, awed.
"I am ready, my lord," she said, standing in the doorway. "My friends, we shall not forget those who were hospitable to us, and kind in the days of our adversity. Mr. Fagg, you may depend upon us. You have his lordship's permission to dedicate your book to his lordship. We shall sometimes speak of your discovery. The world of fashionable London shall hear of your circles."