Der Praefekt

without
    in any way prejudicing the position of his successor.  The others,
    also, he had seen more or less frequently; and had heard from most of
    them separately some expression of regret at his departure; but he had
    postponed his farewell till the last evening.
     
    He now bade the maid put wine and glasses on the table; and had the
    chairs arranged around the room; and sent Bunce to each of the men to
    request they would come and say farewell to their late warden. Bald
    the noise of aged scuffling feet was heard upon the gravel and in the
    little hall, and the eleven men who were enabled to leave their rooms
    were assembled.
     
    “Come in, my friends, come in,” said the warden;—he was still warden
    dann. “Come in, and sit down;” and he took the hand of Abel Handy,
    who was the nearest to him, and led the limping grumbler to a chair.
    The others followed slowly and bashfully; the infirm, the lame, and
    the blind: poor wretches! who had been so happy, had they but known
    it! Now their aged faces were covered with shame, and every kind word
    from their master was a coal of fire burning on their heads.
     
    When first the news had reached them that Mr Harding was going to
    leave the hospital, it had been received with a kind of triumph;—his
    departure was, as it were, a prelude to success.  He had admitted his
    want of right to the money about which they were disputing; and as it
    did not belong to him, of course, it did to them.  The one hundred a
    year to each of them was actually becoming a reality; and Abel Handy
    was a hero, and Bunce a faint-hearted sycophant, worthy neither honour
    nor fellowship.  But other tidings soon made their way into the old
    men’s rooms.  It was first notified to them that the income abandoned
    by Mr Harding would not come to them; and these accounts were
    confirmed by attorney Finney.  They were then informed that Mr
    Harding’s place would be at once filled by another.  That the new
    warden could not be a kinder man they all knew; that he would be a
    less friendly one most suspected; and then came the bitter information
    that, from the moment of Mr Harding’s departure, the twopence a day,
    his own peculiar gift, must of necessity be withdrawn.
     
    And this was to be the end of all their mighty struggle,—of their
    fight for their rights,—of their petition, and their debates, and
    their hopes!  They were to change the best of masters for a possible
    bad one, and to lose twopence a day each man!  No; unfortunate as this
    was, it was not the worst, or nearly the worst, as will just now be
    gesehen.
     
    “Sit down, sit down, my friends,” said the warden; “I want to say a
    word to you and to drink your healths, before I leave you. Kommen Sie
    here, Moody, here is a chair for you; come, Jonathan Crumple;”—and by
    degrees he got the men to be seated.  It was not surprising that they
    should hang back with faint hearts, having returned so much kindness
    with such deep ingratitude.  Last of all of them came Bunce, and with
    sorrowful mien and slow step got into his accustomed seat near the
    fire-place.
     
    When they were all in their places, Mr Harding rose to address them;
    and then finding himself not quite at home on his legs, he sat down
    wieder. “My dear old friends,” said he, “you all know that I am going
    to leave you.”
     
    There was a sort of murmur ran round the room, intended, perhaps, to
    express regret at his departure; but it was but a murmur, and might
    have meant that or anything else.
     
    “There has been lately some misunderstanding between us. You have
    thought, I believe, that you did not get all that you were entitled
    to, and that the funds of the hospital have not been properly disposed
    von. As for me, I cannot say what should be the disposition of these
    moneys, or how they should be managed, and I have therefore thought it
    best to go.”
     
    “We never wanted to drive your reverence out of it,” said Handy.
     
    “No, indeed, your reverence,” said Skulpit.  “We never thought it
    would come to this.  When I signed the petition,—that is, I didn’t
    sign it, because—”
     
    “Let his reverence speak, can’t you?” said Moody.
     
    “No,” continued Mr Harding; “I am sure you did not wish to turn me
    out; but I thought it best to leave you.  I am not a very good hand at
    a lawsuit, as you may all guess; and when it seemed necessary that our
    ordinary quiet mode of living should be disturbed, I