us to do as we pleased with it. We proved all that when we pared them
down a bit. What's an Ecclesiastical Commission? Only another name
for a box to put the money into till you want to take it out again.
When we hear of Churches such as these, as is not kept up by the
people who uses them,--just as the theatres are, Mr. Finn, or the gin
shops,--then I know there's a deal more to be done before honest men
can come by their own. You're right enough, Mr. Finn, you are, as far
as churches go, and you was right, too, when you cut and run off the
Treasury Bench. I hope you ain't going to sit on that stool again."

Mr. Bunce was a privileged person, and Mrs. Bunce made up for his
apparent rudeness by her own affectionate cordiality. "Deary me,
and isn't it a thing for sore eyes to have you back again! I never
expected this. But I'll do for you, Mr. Finn, just as I ever did in
the old days; and it was I that was sorry when I heard of the poor
young lady's death; so I was, Mr. Finn; well, then, I won't mention
her name never again. But after all there's been betwixt you and us
it wouldn't be natural to pass it by without one word; would it, Mr.
Finn? Well, yes; he's just the same man as ever, without a ha'porth
of difference. He's gone on paying that shilling to the Union every
week of his life, just as he used to do; and never got so much out of
it, not as a junketing into the country. That he didn't. It makes me
that sick sometimes when I think of where it's gone to, that I don't
know how to bear it. Well, yes; that is true, Mr. Finn. There never
was a man better at bringing home his money to his wife than Bunce,
barring that shilling. If he'd drink it, which he never does, I
think I'd bear it better than give it to that nasty Union. And
young Jack writes as well as his father, pretty nigh, Mr. Finn,
which is a comfort,"--Mr. Bunce was a journeyman scrivener at a law
stationer's,--"and keeps his self; but he don't bring home his money,