The schoolmistress held back the door as she pointed to the figure of the young lady, with her face still buried in her hands, and whispered in the ear of the gentleman, “that she had been in the same attitude a good part of the previous day, and the whole of that morning.” The shipping agent advanced pompously into the room, and, as he stood in the centre of the small apartment, he addressed himself to the figure, saying— “I have been requested to speak to you, in the name of my old friend, your father, on the perverseness of your late conduct to your preceptress, Miss Wewitz, and I have now to command you, in the name of your parents, to leave your present position, and follow me and your schoolmistress down stairs.” To the ineffable astonishment of the guardian, not a limb of the form before him moved. “Do you hear, miss!” he exclaimed, stamping his foot on the boards, as if to give additional force and authority to his commands,—“do you hear me, I say! Get up this minute, when I command you!” The semi-nautical gentleman was so unused to this utter disregard of his orders, that when he saw not the least effort made to stir, even at the end of his second appeal, he stood, as it were, dumbfoundered for a moment, at the determination of the fancied school-girl. Then he shouted sharply, and in a tone of extreme anger, “Miss Chutney, I say!—Miss Chutney!—do you mean to rise from your present position, or do you wish me to degrade you so far as to force you to do so?” Still no movement was made; whereupon the impatient guardian, unable to brook the slight any longer, seized the figure roughly by the arm, and began shaking it violently. In the act of so doing, the hands were forced down, and the black silk apron fell from before the face, revealing the wooden features of the artist’s model. The schoolmistress no sooner discovered the trick that had been played, and thought of the pains she had taken to expose her misfortune to the young lady’s guardian, than she uttered a piercing shriek, and swooned into the arms of the shipping agent. “D——n it, madam!” cried the city gentleman, who had but little belief in hysterics, fainting fits, or, indeed, any other of the feminine arts of producing an impression, “this will never do;” and seizing the glass of water that had been originally placed there, with the bread, for the imprisoned Chutney, he dashed the whole contents into the lady’s face. Miss Wewitz started up suddenly, and shaking the water from her hair, till the sprinkles flew about as from a twirling mop, she hurried down the stairs, shrieking, in her shrillest voice, “She’s gone! she’s gone! she’s gone!” In a minute the whole establishment were in the hall—staring in mute astonishment at one another—and endeavouring to pacify the frantic Wewitz.