Miss Lavinia colors to the temples—the Squire nearly bursts with pent-up laughter.
"What has he done? A villain did you say?" he asks.
"Yes, sir!—a wretch!"
"Possible?"
"Yes—it is possible: and if you knew as much of human nature as I do, you would never feel surprised at any man's turning out a villain and a wretch! I am a wretch myself, sir!"
And scowling at the Squire, Mr. Rushton goes on with his breakfast.
The Squire utters various inarticulate sounds which seem to indicate the stoppage of a bone in his throat. Nevertheless he soon recovers his powers of speech, and says:
"But how is Roundjacket so bad?"
"He has taken to writing poetry."
"That's an old charge."