“I an idiot!” he exclaimed. “Well, I never heard the like of that before. I tell you what it is, master landlord, I—I—I won’t drink any more of your ale—d—e!” “You—you can’t drink much, you wretched little midge,” said Britton. “Sir,” cried the little man, giving his hat a fierce cock. “Sir, I never enter your house again, and my wife shall get her rations from the Blue Cat and Frying Pan, or the Crocodile and Crumpet, d—e!” The landlord now winked so dreadfully and so incessantly, that it seemed quite doubtful whether or not he would ever leave off again; but the little man was not to be winked into good-humour, and shook his head in great indignation. Britton reeled towards the bar, exclaiming, “Give me a half-pint measure, and if I don’t put him into it, my name ain’t King—King Britton!” The landlord now took the opportunity of whispering to Master Sniggles— “Do for Heaven’s sake be an idiot.” “I—I—the devil!” cried Sniggles. “Say, you are a midge,” added the landlord, at the same time enforcing his argument by a poke in the regions of Master Sniggles’ ribs. “He’ll be desperate if you contradict him. Be an idiot just for old acquaintance sake, and to oblige me.” “It’s not very pleasant,” suggested the little man. “Now,” roared Britton, returning with a pewter measure in his hand. “Are you going to ex—explain yourself.” “Ye—yes,” stammered the little man. “The lights, good sir, were at the large house belonging to the rich squire, whose floors, they say, are paved with dollars, and his walls hung with gold leaf.” “Whe—do—you mean, Learmont?” “Ay, marry do I—that’s his worshipful name; they say he eats off gold plate, and cuts his food with a diamond.” “But what about the lights?” roared Britton. “Why, that’s what I asked a knave that was lounging at the door, and he, a burly knave he was, he says to me—he was a stout fellow to—” “What did he say?” “Why, says he, the squire gives an entertainment to-night to the court and nobility.” “Oh,” cried Britton. “He does, and he has not invited me.” The landlord winked at Master Sniggles, and Master Sniggles this time winked at the landlord, both the winks signifying how very far gone was Britton in drunkenness to make so very absurd and preposterous a remark. Britton was silent for a few moments. Then a half-drunken, half-malignant smile covered his swarthy visage. “I will go,” he cried, “I will be the only uninvited guest, and—and yet the most free. Ha, ha! Learmont would as leave see the devil himself walk in as King Britton, the smith. I’ll go!” “Does your majesty really mean,” suggested the landlord, “to kick up a royal row at the rich squire’s?”