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than his was in possession of the episcopal ear. Precisely at eleven o'clock Richard Meynell appeared on the doorstep of the Palace, and was at once admitted to the Bishop's study.
As he entered the large book-lined room his name was announced in a tone which did not catch the Bishop's attention, and Meynell, as he hesitatingly advanced, became the spectator of a scene not intended for his eyes. On the Bishop's knee sat a little girl of seven or eight. She was crying bitterly, and the Bishop had his arms round her and was comforting her.
[Illustration: "Meynell, as he hesitatingly advanced, became the spectator of a scene not intended for his eyes"]
"There was bogies, grandfather!--there _was!_--and Nannie said I told lies--and I didn't tell lies."
"Darling, there aren't bogies anywhere--but I'm sure you didn't tell lies. What did you think they were like?"
"Grandfather, they was all black--and they jumped--and wiggled--and spitted--o-o-oh!"
And the child went off in another wail, at which moment the Bishop perceived Meynell. His delicate cheek flushed, but he held up his hand, in smiling entreaty; and Meynell disappeared behind a revolving bookcase.
The Bishop hastily returned to the charge, endeavouring to persuade his little granddaughter that the "bogie" had really been "cook's black cat," generally condemned to the kitchen and blackbeetles, but occasionally let loose to roam the upper floors in search of nobler game. The child dried her eyes, and listened, gravely weighing his remarks. Her face gradually cleared, and when at the end he said slyly, "And even if there were bogies, little girls shouldn't throw hairbrushes at their Nannies!" she nodded a judicial head, adding plaintively:
"But then Nannies mustn't talk all the time, grandfather! Little girls must talk a itty itty bit. If Nannies not let them, little girls must frow somefing at Nannies."
The Bishop laughed--a low, soft sound, from which Meynell in the dista