"Ay!" replied Cannon, giving the table a liberal thump. "What the devil is it to me?" "Why, his lordship desires that you will vote for Mr. Eelback." "Then tell his lordship that I'd sooner see Mr. Eelback skinned alive!" Cannon was furious. Carrydot was calm, nay, he smiled; for the fury of Cannon spoke volumes of prospective _foreclosures_, and _distresses_, and _rescous_, and _replevin_, and _denial_; more especially as Cannon seemed to be a _good man_, with a silver urn and tea-pot on the table, and every appearance of wealth and independence about the goods and chattels on the premises. "You seem to forget, sir," he quietly replied, "that you only hold Wick-Hall upon a lease, and that your interest in the lease expires next Michaelmas." This was a thunderbolt to Cannon, who had laid out upwards of three thousand pounds on Wick-Hall. "What, sir, if I refuse to vote for this Eelback?" "You must turn out, sir, _nolens volens_; so sayeth the law!" "But justice, sir?" "So sayeth the law. Every man has a right to do what he likes with his own, Mr. Cannon." "What! whatever my political opinions may be?" "You must poll for his lordship's candidate." "This is infamous, oppressive, tyrannical!" "Perhaps you may think so. Your politics, as you say, may differ from those of his lordship, but his lordship must be in the right. _Primò_, he is lord of the manor; _secundò_, his property in the county is very considerable; and, _ergo_, he has a better right to know what is good for the people than a mere tenant." "But, sir, he has no right--" "Once more, sir, every one has a right to do what he likes with his own." "Then, let me tell you, sir," replied Mr. Cannon, in a paroxysm of rage, "that there cudgel is my own, and suppose I knocked you down with it? This here foot is my own, and suppose I kicked you out of my house, Mr. Thingembob?" "In that case," replied Carrydot, with a tranquillity which would have made Job himself smash all his crockery,--"In that case, sir, if you made use of that _there_ cudgel, as you call it, the law would soon make you _cut your stick_; and if you did make the aforesaid use of that _there_ foot, unless you took _leg-bail_, you should pay dearly for the experiment." So saying, Mr. Carrydot took an enormous pinch of snuff, clapped on his broad beaver with forensic dignity, pulled up his coat-sleeves still higher with a twisting thrust of the hand, ready for anything--as the Irish say--from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter, and bidding Cannon, in a vulgar language unbecoming a solicitor, to prepare "to tip his rags a gallop by roast-goose time," which in the dignified metaphorical phraseology of the bar meaneth Michaelmas, he left Commodus Cannon to his deep reflections. He was roused from this apathetic state by the entrance of Mrs. Cannon. "Well, sir?" said she, in an anxious tone. "Well, sir?" "Mrs. Cannon, I regret it, but we _must_ have a revolution in this here slavish, this here degraded country!"