“Come then, sir, let us together bare our heads in homage to Age, Sorrow and Womanhood in the person of this much-enduring Mistress Haryott!” and off came Sir John’s hat forthwith.
“Are ye mad?” demanded the other scornfully. “Are ye mad or drunk, my lad?”
“Sir, a Man of Sentiment is never——”
“Curse your sentiment! Let me warn ye that yon hag is a notorious evil-liver and a damned witch——”
“Which as a Man of Sentiment——”
“Hold y’r tongue, d’ye hear! She’s a witch, I tell ye, so tak’ my advice, my lad, throw that old trug o’ her’n over the hedge and leave her to the devil! And now loose my bridle; I’m done.”
“But I am not, sir!” answered Sir John. “You attempted to strike a woman in my presence, and have dared allude to me twice as your ‘lad’—two very heinous offences——”
“Loose my bridle or ’twill be the worse for ye. D’ye know who I am?”
“Judging by your right eye, sir, its rainbow colouring, I opine you must be Mr. James Sturton——”
“Damn your insolence—leggo my bridle!”