'Master Klink, Master Klink,' I said, trying to frown down the crowd, 'you would do well to have a care. These ragamuffins----'
'Have a care yourself, Master Jackanapes!' the same voice cried. 'This is a town meeting.'
'Town meeting!' I said, looking round contemptuously. 'Gaol-meeting, you mean, and likely to be a gaol-filling. But I do not speak to you; I leave that to the constable. For Master Klink, if he will take a word of advice, I will speak with him alone.'
They cried out to him not to speak to me. But Klink had still sense enough to know that he might be going too fast, and though they hooted and laughed at him--being for the most part people who had nothing to lose--he came out of the house with me and crossed the street that we might talk unheard. As civilly as I could I delivered my message; and as exactly, for I saw that the issue might be serious.
I was not surprised when he groaned, and in a kind of a tremor shook his hands. 'I am not my own master, Schwartz,' he said. 'And that is the truth.'
'You were your own master last night,' I retorted.
'These fellows are all for "No Popery."'
'Ay, and who gave them the cue?' I said sharply. 'It is not the first time that the fat burgher has raised the lean kine and been eaten by them. Nor will it be the last. It serves you right.'
'I am willing enough to do what my lady wishes,' he whimpered; 'but----'
'But you are not master of your own house, do you mean?' I exclaimed. 'Then fetch the constable. That is simple. Or the Burgomaster.'