After marriage, the Rev. Charles turned out to have a will of his own, and refused to let Mrs. Pellypop manage his household as she wished to do. Indeed, when he was created Bishop of Patagonia for his book on "Missionary Mistakes," he went off with his meek little wife to his diocese in South America, and absolutely refused to let his upright mother-in-law accompany him. So Mrs. Pellypop made a virtue of necessity, and stayed behind in Melbourne; talked scandal with her small circle of friends, bragged about her son-in-law the Bishop, gave tracts to the poor, which they did not want, and refused them money, which they did, and, in short, led, as she thought, a useful, Christian life. Other people said she was meddlesome, but then we all have our enemies, and if the rest of her sex could not be as noble and virtuous as Mrs. Pellypop, why it was their own fault. At last she heard that the Bishop and his wife had gone to England to see that worthy prelate's parents, so Mrs. Pellypop sold all her carefully preserved furniture, gave up her house, and took her passage on board the "Neptune" in order to see her dear children before they went back to the wilds of South America. On board the ship she asserted her authority at once, and came a kind of female Alexander Selkirk, monarch of all she surveyed. Two or three ladies did indeed attempt a feeble resistance, but Mrs. Pellypop made a good fight for it, and soon reduced them to submission. Her freezing glance, like that of Medusa, turned everyone into stone, and though the young folk talked flippantly enough about her behind her back, they were quiet enough under the mastery of her eye. When the ship left Gibraltar, late in the afternoon, Mrs. Pellypop was not pleased, and sat in her deck chair steadily knitting, and frowned at the grand mass of the Ape's Head on the African coast as if that mountain had seriously displeased her. She was annoyed with the conduct of Miss Cotoner who took an independent stand and refused to be dictated to by Mrs. Pellypop or anyone else; so the good lady, anxious to guide the young and impulsive girl, and find out all about her, determined to speak to her and subjugate her, if possible. So she sat in her chair knitting away like one of the Fates, and pondering over her plan of action, for Mrs. Pellypop never did anything in hurry, and always marshalled her forces beforehand.