Mr. Brithwood started up with an angry oath.
"My good sir," said the baronet, with a look of reprehension which proved him of the minority who thought swearing ungentlemanly.
"By ——, Sir Ralph, you shall not hear that low fellow!"
"Excuse me, I must, if he has a right to be heard. Mr. Halifax, you are a freeman of Kingswell?"
"I am."
This fact surprised none more than myself.
Brithwood furiously exclaimed that it was a falsehood. "The fellow does not belong to this neighbourhood at all. He was picked up in Norton Bury streets—a beggar, a thief, for all I know."
"You do know very well, Mr. Brithwood. Sir Ralph, I was never either a beggar or a thief. I began life as a working lad—a farm-labourer—until Mr. Fletcher, the tanner, took me into his employ."
"So I have always understood," said Sir Ralph, courteously. "And next to the man who is fortunate enough to boast a noble origin, I respect the man who is not ashamed of an ignoble one."
"That is not exactly my position either," said John, with a half smile. "But we are passing from the question in hand, which is simply my claim to be a freeman of this borough."