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and the turnkey noticed that his hands went often to his trembling lips
again； as they had used to do when he first came in。
But he got pretty well over it in a month or two； and in the meantime
the children played about the yard as regularly as ever； but in black。
Then Mrs Bangham； long popular medium of munication with the outer
world； began to be infirm； and to be found oftener than usual atose
on pavements； with her basket of purchases spilt； and the change of her
clients ninepence short。 His son began to supersede Mrs Bangham； and
to execute missions in a knowing manner； and to be of the prison
prisonous； of the streets streety。
Time went on； and the turnkey began to fail。 His chest swelled； and his
legs got weak； and he was short of breath。 The well…worn wooden stool
was 'beyond him；' he plained。 He sat in an arm…chair with a cushion；
and sometimes wheezed so； for minutes together； that he couldn't turn
the key。 When he was overpowered by these fits； the debtor often turned
it for him。 'You and me；' said the turnkey； one snowy winter's night
when the lodge； with a bright fire in it； was pretty full of pany；
'is the oldest inhabitants。 I wasn't here myself above seven year before
you。 I shan't last long。 When I'm off the lock for good and all； you'll
be the Father of the Marshalsea。'
The turnkey went off the lock of this world next day。 His words were
remembered and repeated； and tradition afterwards handed down from
generation to generation……a Marshalsea generation might be calculated as
about three months……that the shabby old debtor with the soft manner and
the white hair； was the Father of the Marshalsea。
And he grew to be proud of the title。 If any impostor had arisen to
claim it； he would have shed tears in resentment of the attempt to
deprive him of his rights。 A disposition began to be perceived in him
to exaggerate the number of years he had been there； it was generally
understood that you must deduct a few from his account； he was vain； the
fleeting generations of debtors said。
All new…ers were presented to him。 He was punctilious in the exaction
of this ceremony。 The wits would perform the office of introduction with
overcharged pomp and politeness； but they could not easily overstep his
sense of its gravity。 He received them in his poor room （he disliked an
introduction in the mere yard； as informal……a thing that might happen
to anybody）； with a kind of bowed…down beneficence。 They were wele to
the Marshalsea； he would tell them。 Yes； he was the Father of the place。
So the world was kind enough to call him； and so he was； if more than
twenty years of residence gave him a claim to the title。 It looked
small at first； but there was very good pany there……among a
mixture……necessarily a mixture……and very good air。
It became a not unusual circumstance for letters to be put under his
door at night； enclosing half…a…crown； two half…crowns； now and then at
long intervals even half…a…sovereign； for the Father of the Marshalsea。
'With the pliments of a collegian taking leave。' He received the
gifts as tributes； from admirers； to a public character。 Sometimes
these correspondents assumed facetious names； as the Brick； Bellows； Old
Gooseberry； Wideawake； Snooks； Mops； Cutaway； the Dogs…meat Man； but he
considered this in bad taste； and was always a little hurt by it。
In the fulness of time； this correspondence showing signs of wearing
out； and seeming to require an effort on the part of the correspondents
to which in the hurried circumstances of departure many of them might
not be equal； he established the custom of attending collegians of
a certain standing； to the gate； and taking leave of them there。 The
collegian under treatment； after shaking hands； would occasionally
stop to wrap up something in a bit of paper； and would e back again
calling 'Hi！'
He would look round surprised。'Me？' he would say； with a smile。 By
this time the collegian would be up with him； and he would paternally
add；'What have you forgotten？ What can I do for you？'
'I forgot to leave this；' the collegian would usually return； 'for the
Father of the Marshalsea。'
'My good sir；' he would rejoin； 'he is infinitely obliged to you。' But；
to the last； the irresolute hand of old would remain in the pocket into
which he had slipped the money during two or three turns about the yard；
lest the transaction should be too conspicuous to the general body of
collegians。
One afternoon he had been doing the honours of the place to a rather
large party of collegians； who happened to be going out； when； as he was
ing back； he encountered one from the poor side who had been taken in
execution for a small sum a week before； had 'settled' in the course of
that afternoon； and was going out too。 The man was a mere Plasterer in
his working dress； had his wife with him； and a bundle； and was in high
spirits。
'God bless you； sir；' he said in passing。
'And you；' benignantly returned the Father of the Marshalsea。
They were pretty far divided； going their several ways； when the
Plasterer called out； 'I say！……sir！' and came back to him。
'It ain't much；' said the Plasterer； putting a little pile of halfpence
in his hand； 'but it's well meant。'
The Father of the Marshalsea had never been offered tribute in copper
yet。 His children often had； and with his perfect acquiescence it had
gone into the mon purse to buy meat that he had eaten； and drink that
he had drunk； but fustian splashed with white lime； bestowing halfpence
on him； front to front； was new。
'How dare you！' he said to the man； and feebly burst into tears。
The Plasterer turned him towards the wall； that his face might not be
seen； and the action was so delicate； and the man was so perated with
repentance； and asked pardon so honestly； that he could make him no less
acknowledgment than； 'I know you meant it kindly。 Say no more。'
'Bless your soul； sir；' urged the Plasterer； 'I did indeed。 I'd do more
by you than the rest of 'em do； I fancy。'
'What would you do？' he asked。
'I'd e back to see you； after I was let out。'
'Give me the money again；' said the other； eagerly； 'and I'll keep it；
and never spend it。 Thank you for it； thank you！ I shall see you again？'
'If I live a week you shall。'
They shook hands and parted。 The collegians； assembled in Symposium in
the Snuggery that night； marvelled what had happened to their Father； he
walked so late in the shadows of the yard； and seemed so downcast。
CHAPTER 7。 The Child of the Marshalsea
The baby whose first draught of air had been tinctured with Doctor
Haggage's brandy； was handed down among the generations of collegians；
like the tradition of their mon parent。 In the earlier stages of her
existence； she was handed down in a literal and prosaic sense； it being
almost a part of the entrance footing of every new collegian to nurse
the child who had been born in the college。
'By rights；' remarked the turnkey when she was first shown to him； 'I
ought to be her godfather。'
The debtor irresolutely thought of it for a minute； and said； 'Perhaps
you wouldn't object to really being her godfather？'
'Oh！ _I_ don't