"You remind me of what Master Butler says:
'There's but the twinkling of a star
Betwixt the man of peace and war'.
But the hour is late, Sherry, and I must be up betimes in the morning, for my visit to Lord Godolphin."
"You bean't gwine to see the high lard to-morrer, sir? Better larn to find your way about this tangle o' busy streets first. 'Tis as easy as sucken eggs to lose your way."
"I have made up my mind to go to-morrow. You see, I must lose no time. I have only twenty guineas, as you know, and by to-morrow two of those will be gone. And I sha'n't rest till I have tried my luck. Good-night, Sherry! Wake me at seven."
Left to himself, Sherebiah ordered a pint of small beer, and sat for an hour longer, ruminating, with knit brows and compressed lips. More than once he got up and walked round the deal table, stopping to take a pull at the tankard, heaving a sigh, then going on again. He was disquieted. The sudden discovery that the squire's animosity was pursuing Harry no less perplexed than disturbed him. Harry and Mr. Berkeley had never met at close quarters; there had been no intercourse between hall and parsonage. A personal cause of offence was, as it seemed to Sherebiah, out of the question; yet it was strange that the squire's hatred of the father should extend to the son. At length, muttering "No one can tell what's what with the likes o' old Squire," Sherebiah brought his big fist down on to the table with a bang that made the pewter jump and rattle, and fetched the drawer from his place in the bar.
"What d'ye lack?" said the man.
"Nothen, sonny, nothen. 'Tis a way o' mine to hit out when I be a-thinken, a bold way for a man o' peace, true. Bacon at half arter seven, drawer,—and we be country eaters, mind 'ee. Good-night!"
CHAPTER VI
My Lord Marlborough makes a Note