CHAPTER II
The highroad was close on one side of the castle garden, and separated
from it only by a high wall. A very pretty little toll-house with a
red-tiled roof stood near, with a gay little flower-garden inclosed by
a picket-fence behind it. A breach in the wall connected this garden
with the most secluded and shady part of the castle garden itself. The
toll-gate keeper who occupied the cottage died suddenly, and early one
morning, when I was still sound asleep, the Secretary from the castle
waked me in a great hurry and bade me come immediately to the
Bailiff. I dressed myself as quickly as I could and followed the brisk
Secretary, who, as we went, plucked a flower here and there and stuck
it into his button-hole, made scientific lunges in the air with his
cane, and talked steadily to me all the while, although my eyes and
ears were so filled with sleep that I could not understand anything
he said. When we reached the office, where as yet it was hardly light,
the Bailiff, behind a huge inkstand and piles of books and papers,
looked at me from out of his huge wig like an owl from out its nest,
and began: "What's your name? Where do you come from? Can you read,
write, and cipher?" And when I assented, he went on, "Well, her
Grace, in consideration of your good manners and extraordinary merit,
appoints you to the vacant post of Receiver of Toll." I hurriedly
passed in mental review the conduct and manners that had hitherto
distinguished me, and was forced to admit that the Bailiff was right.
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