The sexton humbly snatched off his hat; the college boys raised their
trenchers.

"Thank you all for coming to the rescue," said the bishop, in a
pleasant tone. "It was not an agreeable situation, to be locked in the
cathedral."

"My lord," stammered the sexton, in awe-struck dread, as to whether he
had unwittingly been the culprit: "how did your lordship get locked
in?"

"That is what we must inquire into," replied the bishop.

The next to hobble out was Ketch. In his own fashion, almost ignoring
the presence of the bishop, he made known the tale. It was received
with ridicule. The college boys especially cast mockery upon it, and
began dancing a jig when the bishop's back was turned. "Let a couple of
keys drop down, and, when picked up, you found them transmogrified into
old rusty machines, made in the year one!" cried Bywater. "_That's_
very like a whale, Ketch!"

Ketch tore off to his lodge, as fast as his lumbago allowed him,
calling upon the crowd to come and look at the nail where the keys
always hung, except when in use, and holding out the rusty dissemblers
for public view, in a furious passion.

He dashed open the door. The college boys, pushing before the crowd,
and following on the bishop's heels--who had probably his own reasons
for wishing to see the solution of the affair--thronged into the lodge.
"There's the nail, my lord, and there--"