“An it please your honour, your breakfast is hot. There be new-laid eggs, and buttered buns; a chine, the like of which is rarely seen at the King’s Bounty. Then we have some confections, your honour, which would be no disparagement to the bishop’s own larder, which, they do say, keeps up a continual groaning from the heap of niceties collected therein. Then, as to wine we have, I will say it—who should not—the very creamiest, rarest—”
“Peace—begone!” said Gray.
“Your honour!”
“Begone, I say!”
“I humbly—”
“Peace! Is it thus you torment your guest? Do not interrupt me until I call for you. I have a private conference to hold with this poor creature. Here, pay yourself as you will for the cooling of your most precious viands.”
Gray threw a piece of gold to the landlord, who picked it up, and vanished with a profusion of bows, to tell his company below what a nice gentleman, a friend of the great Sir Frederick Hartleton, he had above stairs, who not only paid for what was cooked for him, but requested he might be charged for the cooling of the various delicacies!
“Now, that’s what I call a real gentleman,” added the landlord; “and one as makes a virtuous use of his money.”
When Jacob was once more alone with poor Maud, he approached her and said,—
“As you value your life, tell me all.”