"Come, come, Master Juggler! quoth the Squire sharply, "I've heard all that palaver before, and mayhap once too often. You ask who has insulted me—I'll tell you in four words—that unmitigated rascal, Peter!
"Peter! alackaday!" replied the Juggler, with an affected whine of consternation. "Is it possible that he can have been left so far to his own devices! Surely, surely, my dear master, there must be some mistake in this."
"No mistake at all!" roared the Squire; "and, what is more, there shall be no mistake about it. Look here—" continued he, pointing out the paragraph. "Have you read that?"
The Juggler had done so, every word of it, that blessed morning; but as he wished to gain time, he adjusted his glasses, and began to con it over with an appearance of intense interest. Meanwhile the Squire occupied himself in tying knots on a new lash for his hunting-whip.
"Well, what do you say to that now?" quoth he, when the Juggler had concluded the perusal.
"I think—that is—I am strongly of opinion," faltered the other, "that the whole thing is a mere misconception."
"A what?" roared the Squire.
"A misconception," quavered the Juggler. "As I read this document, which I confess is not so well worded as it might have been, I conclude that Peter merely wishes to provide for the spiritual wants of his own people, not that he in the least degree intends to question your lawful authority. And further—"
"Hark-ye!" interrupted the Squire, his eye kindling like a coal, "I am not going to stand any of your nonsense. I, John Bull, stand here as the sole proprietor of Bullockshatch, and no man alive shall presume to question my title with impunity. Look to it, Master Juggler, for I know you better than you think. I may be at times too easy and careless, but I have an eye in my head notwithstanding, and I know what your friends Gray and Claretson have been doing. Mind this—you as head-steward are responsible to me, and if I find you playing false in this matter, by the Lord Harry you shall answer for it!"
"Me!" cried the Juggler, in the shrill tones of injured innocence. "How could such an idea enter into your blessed brain? I protest that never man served master with more entire devotion. May my next tragedy be worse than my first, if it does not bring tears into my eyes, to hear you talking in this way of your affectionate Juggling Johnny!" Here he went through a little bit of pantomime similar to that performed by Mr T. P. Cooke when bidding farewell to Shewsan, immediately before his execution. "As for Gray and Claretson, or any other of them, if they have been doing anything contrary to the rules of the household, it is wholly unbeknownst to me. O! if your honour only knew the trouble they give me sometimes, and the watch I am obliged to keep over them to see that they do their duty! I really think that the labour is telling upon my precious health. If it be your pleasure that they should be packed about their business, I'll do it—only don't break my heart by doubting my devotion in your service."