"Bring here that ladder, boy!" vociferated the imperious great man.
The boy obeyed, saying, as he drew near, "What's your pleasure, sir?"
"Fix your ladder against this post, d'ye hear? and mount—steady, mind,—and take the sign off the hooks. When you have got it loose, you may let it drop. If it breaks, it's no matter,—it is of no farther value."
"Take down master's sign, your honour?" said Jem, opening his mouth and eyes to their greatest dimensions, but not approaching an inch nearer to the sign-post.
"Do you dispute my orders, you little ruffian?" cried the holy vicar, his eyes flashing, and his cane raised in a very threatening attitude.
"You be the parson of the parish, I know," said the boy, looking steadily in his face; "and they do say you be something else besides, now; but I don't see that's a reason for my lugging master's sign down."
At this moment the feelings of the man overcame those of the saint, and Mr. Cartwright seizing upon the ladder, succeeded in disengaging it from the boy's hands, and himself placing it against the post, had already got one foot upon it, when Mrs. Freeman stepped back, and taking a quiet but firm hold of his arm, said, "It is a trespass and a damage you are committing, sir, and I warn you to desist; and I wish with all my heart that there was no worser trespass and damage upon your conscience—or at least that there was still as good time to stop it. But, married or not to the lady, we won't have nothing to do with your arms, Mr. Cartwright, nor your legs, neither, if you please, sir; so don't be after climbing that fashion to disturb our property, for it don't look clerical nohow."
Mr. Cartwright raised his voice much beyond its usual pitch, to answer; and at this moment Sally and the traveller, moved by a very natural feeling of curiosity, joined the group.
"Why, what's the gentleman after?" said the wayfaring man, deliberately taking out a pair of huge near-sighted spectacles to examine into the mystery. "I should take un to be a parson by his cloth; only I never did hear of a reverend climbing a ladder, save and except the famous Dr. Dodd, as I've read of in the Newgate Calendar."
This harangue, short as it was, saved the Mowbray Arms from farther molestation for the present; for the vicar withdrew his foot. But the glance with which he greeted the speaker was very nearly awful. Dorothy Freeman, however, turned on her heel, nothing heeding it: her guest and daughter followed her into the house; Jem quietly took up his ladder and proceeded on his business; and the Vicar of Wrexhill, with feelings which the hope of future vengeance alone enabled him to endure with decent philosophy, was fain to turn on his heel also and walk off.