"Irritable!" exclaimed the Squire, whose wrath had been long simmering, and now fairly boiled over. "Irritable, sir! I should think so; a man for whom I stood godfather at the hustings, Mr. Dale! a man for whose sake I was called a 'prize ox,' Mr. Dale! a man for whom I was hissed in a market-place, Mr. Dale! a man for whom I was shot at, in cold blood, by an officer in his Majesty's service, who lodged a ball in my right shoulder, Mr. Dale! a man who had the ingratitude, after all this, to turn his back on the landed interest—to deny that there was any agricultural distress in a year which broke three of the best farmers I ever had, Mr. Dale!—a man, sir, who made a speech on the Currency which was complimented by Ricardo, a Jew! Good heavens! a pretty parson you are, to stand up for a fellow complimented by a Jew! Nice ideas you must have of Christianity. Irritable, sir!" now fairly roared the Squire, adding to the thunder of his voice the cloud of a brow, which evinced a menacing ferocity that might have done honor to Bussy D'Amboise or Fighting Fitzgerald. "Sir, if that man had not been my own half-brother, I'd have called him out. I have stood my ground before now. I have had a ball in my right shoulder. Sir, I'd have called him out."
"Mr. Hazeldean! Mr. Hazeldean! I'm shocked at you," cried the Parson; and, putting his lips close to the Squire's ear, he went on in a whisper: "What an example to your son! You'll have him fighting duels one of these days, and nobody to blame but yourself."
This warning cooled Mr. Hazeldean; and muttering, "Why the deuce did you set me off?" he fell back into his chair, and began to fan himself with his pocket-handkerchief.
The Parson skillfully and remorselessly pursued the advantage he had gained. "And now, that you may have it in your power, to show civility and kindness to a boy whom Mr. Egerton has taken up, out of respect to his wife's memory—a kinsman you say of your own—and who has never offended you—a boy whose diligence in his studies proves him to be an excellent companion to your son. Frank," (here the Parson raised his voice), "I suppose you wanted to call on young Leslie, as you were studying the county map so attentively?"
"Why, yes," answered Frank, rather timidly. "If my father did not object to it. Leslie has been very kind to me, though he is in the sixth form, and, indeed, almost the head of the school."
"Ah," said Mrs. Hazeldean, "one studious boy has a fellow-feeling for another; and though you enjoy your holidays, Frank, I am sure you read hard at school."
Mrs. Dale opened her eyes very wide, and stared in astonishment.
Mrs. Hazeldean retorted that look with great animation. "Yes, Carry," said she, tossing her head, "though you may not think Frank clever, his master finds him so. He got a prize last half. That beautiful book, Frank—hold up your head, my love—what did you get it for?"
Frank, reluctantly.—"Verses, ma'am."
Mrs. Hazeldean, with triumph.—"Verses!—there, Carry, verses!"