"Not under Mr. Hearne, Sir," answered Ste Gimlet. "We've had too many squabbles together;" and he shook his head. "No, no, that would never do," replied Sir John, laughing; "you'd soon have your charges in each other's gizzards. But you know Denman died a week ago, over at the Trottington Hall manor, on t'other side of the common--you know it, you dog--you know it well enough, I can see by the twinkling of your eye. I dare say you have looked into every nest on the manor, since the poor fellow was bagged by the grim archer. Well, but as I was saying, there's the cottage empty and eighteen shillings a week, and you and Hearne can run against each other, and see which will give us the best day's sport at the end of the year. What do you say, Gimlet? you can go and take possession of the cottage this very night; I don't want it to stand empty an hour longer." "Thank you a thousand times, Sir John," said the man heartily; "you are a kind gentleman indeed, but I must go up to my own place first. There's my little boy, you know. Poor little man, I dare say he has cried his heart out." "Pooh, nonsense, not a bit," said the baronet, "I'll take care of all that. I'll send up and have him fetched." The man smiled and shook his bread, saying, "He would not come with a stranger." "What will you bet?" cried Sir John Slingsby, laughing. "I'll bet you a guinea against your last ferret, that he'll come directly. Here, Matthew--Moore--Harrison," he continued, first ringing the bell, and then opening the door to call, "some of you d--d fellows run up and bring Ste Gimlet's little boy. Tell him, his daddy's here," and Sir John Slingsby sat down and laughed prodigiously, adding every now and then, "I'll take any man five guineas of it that he comes." There is an exceedingly good old English expression, which smart people have of late years banished from polite prose, but which I shall beg leave to make use of here. Sir John Slingsby then was known to be a _comical fellow_. Stephen Gimlet was well aware that such was the case; and though he thought the joke was a somewhat extravagant one, to send a man-servant up to the moor at that hour of the evening, to fetch down his little boy, yet still he thought it a joke. His only anxiety, however, was to prevent its being carried too far, and, therefore, after twirling his hat about for a minute in silence, he said--