'If I won't give it to Bill Bettesworth!' cried Tom.
'What has he done?'
'Always telling me that gentlefolks hadn't got no notion of fair play with the like of us, but held us like the dirt to be trampled on! But there—I'll let him know—'
'Who is he?'
'A young man what works with Mr. Smith,' returned Tom, his sullenness having given place to a frank, open manner, such as any one but Louis would have deemed too free and ready.
'Was he your great friend at Northwold?'
'A chap must speak to some one,' was Tom's answer.
'And what kind of a some one was he?'
'Why, he comes down Illershall way. He knows a thing or two, and can go on like an orator or a play-book—or like yourself, my Lord.'
'Thank you. I hope the thing or two were of the right sort.'