“Yes, sir, that's true;” and they both laughed heartily at the pleasant conceit; and in this merry humor they went their several ways to bed. CHAPTER XXXII. MORNING AT THE PRIORY Sewell was awoke from a sound and heavy sleep by the Chief Baron's valet asking if it was his pleasure to see his Lordship before he went down to Court, in which case there was not much time to be lost. “How soon does he go?” asked Sewell, curtly. “He likes to be on the Bench by eleven exactly, sir, and he has always some business in Chamber first.” “All that tells me nothing, my good friend. How much time have I now to catch him in before he starts?” “Half an hour, sir. Forty minutes, at most.” “Well, I 'll try and do it. Say I 'm in my bath, and that I 'll be with him immediately.” The man was not well out of the room when Sewell burst out into a torrent of abuse of the old Judge and his ways: “His inordinate vanity, his consummate conceit, to imagine that any activity of an old worn-out intellect like his could be of service to the public! If he knew but all, he is just as useful in his nightcap as in his wig, and it would be fully as dignified to sleep in his bed as in the Court of Exchequer.” While he poured forth this invective, he dressed himself with all possible haste; indeed his ill-temper stimulated his alacrity, and he very soon issued from his room, trying to compose his features into a semblance of pleasure on meeting with his host. “I hope and trust I have not disturbed you unreasonably,” said the Judge, rising from the breakfast-table, as Sewell entered. “I know you arrived very late, and I 'd have given you a longer sleep if it were in my power.” “An old soldier, my Lord, knows how to manage with very little. I am only sorry if I have kept you waiting.” “No man ever presumed to keep me waiting, sir. It is a slight I have yet to experience.” “I mean, my Lord, it would have grieved me much had I occasioned you an inconvenience.” “If you had, sir, it might have reacted injuriously upon yourself.” Sewell bowed submissively, for what he knew not; but he surmised that as there was an opening for regret, there might also be a reason for gratitude; he waited to see if he were right. “My telegram only told you that I wanted you; it could not say for what,” continued the Judge; and his voice still retained the metallic ring the late irritation had lent it. “There has been a contested question between the Crown and myself as to the patronage to an office in my Court. I have carried my point. They have yielded. They would have me believe that they have submitted out of deference to myself personally, my age, and long services. I know better, sir. They have taken the opinion of the Solicitor-General in England, who, with no flattering opinion of what is called 'Irish law,' has pronounced against them. The gift of the office rests with me, and it is my intention to confer it upon _you_.” “Oh, my Lord, I have no words to express my gratitude!”