I looked at him, then stepped round the table to the bell, which I pulled violently. My own maid, guessing the summons was mine, answered.
‘Jane,’ said I, ‘go instantly for a constable.’
‘There is no need to fetch a constable,’ exclaimed Mr. Stanford, getting up, ‘my nephew will leave the house.’
On this, Mr. Potter went out into the hall, and whilst he fumbled at the hatstand, called out:
‘I suppose I may take my luggage?’
I was determined to humble the dog to an extremity, and told Jane to call in any two idle fellows she could see to remove Mr. Potter’s luggage. She fetched two men from a public-house, and I took them upstairs into Mr. Potter’s room and bade them carry his trunks below and put them on the pavement. When they had carried the trunks downstairs they returned for Mr. Potter’s loose, unpacked apparel, which, acting on my instructions, they heaped along with his unpacked linen on top of the boxes on the pavement. I paid the two men for their trouble, and violently slammed the hall-door upon Mr. Potter, who stood in the road, gazed at by a fast-gathering crowd, waiting for the arrival of a hackney coach, which was very slow in coming.
As I passed upstairs, panting and heart-sick, Mr. Stanford came into the hall, and called out: ‘You will ruin my practice.’ I paused to see if he had more to say, and I was very thankful afterward that he had thought proper to immediately retire on observing me stop.