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Chapter 6. The Father of the Marshalsea

           Buthegotprettywelloveritinamonthortwo;andinthemeantimethechildrenplayedabouttheyardasregularlyasever,butinblack.

           ThenMrsBangham,longpopularmediumofcommunicationwiththeouterworld,begantobeinfirm,andtobefoundoftenerthanusualcomatoseonpavements,withherbasketofpurchasesspilt,andthechangeofherclientsninepenceshort.HissonbegantosupersedeMrsBangham,andtoexecutecommissionsinaknowingmanner,andtobeoftheprisonprisonous,ofthestreetsstreety.

           Timewenton,andtheturnkeybegantofail.Hischestswelled,andhislegsgotweak,andhewasshortofbreath.Thewell-wornwoodenstoolwas‘beyondhim,’hecomplained.Hesatinanarm-chairwithacushion,andsometimeswheezedso,forminutestogether,thathecouldn’tturnthekey.Whenhewasoverpoweredbythesefits,thedebtoroftenturneditforhim.

           ‘Youandme,’saidtheturnkey,onesnowywinter’snightwhenthelodge,withabrightfireinit,wasprettyfullofcompany,‘istheoldestinhabitants.Iwasn’theremyselfabovesevenyearbeforeyou.Ishan’tlastlong.WhenI’moffthelockforgoodandall,you’llbetheFatheroftheMarshalsea.’

           Theturnkeywentoffthelockofthisworldnextday.Hiswordswererememberedandrepeated;andtraditionafterwardshandeddownfromgenerationtogeneration—aMarshalseagenerationmightbecalculatedasaboutthreemonths—thattheshabbyolddebtorwiththesoftmannerandthewhitehair,wastheFatheroftheMarshalsea.

           Andhegrewtobeproudofthetitle.

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