“Become of him?” exclaimed Longstaff, turning towards her as she yet remained on her knees on the ground. “Why,--take and throw him into th' horsepond, that's my advice. He 'll never be good for aught in this world but to hang on th' work'us, and pull money out of other people's pockets. Go on, Bill;--go on, my lad:--put 'em all down, stick and stone; and away with 'em all to-night. There sha'n't be a single thing of any sort left in this house for th' sun to shine on to-morrow morning.” The excitement produced by Mr. Longstaff's discourse upon his own stomach and brain had the effect of rendering him, in this brief period of time, apparently much more intoxicated than he was on first entering the cottage, and he now sunk heavily upon a chair, as though unable to remain upon his feet any longer. “Have you put this chair down, Bill?” he asked, at the same time tapping with his fingers the back of that upon which he was sitting, by way of drawing attention to it. The constable answered in the affirmative. “That's right, my boy--that's right. And that clock, there, have you got him? Bless his old pendulum! we 'll stop his ticking very soon:--we 'll show him what o'clock it is,--won't we, missis?” But this facetiousness passed unheeded by the poor woman to whom it was addressed, unless one look of reproachful scorn, which she cast in the stupid face of the steward, might be considered as an answer to it. “Why, you 're looking quite pretty, tonight, _Miss_ Clink,” said Mr. Longstaff in a more subdued tone:--“I don't wonder--though he is married, and all that sort of thing,--I don't wonder at the squire, if he did patronise you a little.” The cheeks of our hero's mother blushed scarlet with indignation. She rose from the cradle-side, on which she had been sitting, and with an evident struggle to overcome the sobs that were rising in her throat, so as to enable her to speak distinctly, she stood up before the astonished steward, displaying a countenance and figure that would have graced many a far fairer place, and thus addressed him:-- “I'm a poor helpless woman, Mr. Longstaff, and you know it; but such men as you are always cowards. You may rob me of my few goods; you may destroy my home, though it is almost too poor to be worth the trouble; you may turn me out of my house, with that baby, without a roof to put my head under, because you may have power to do it, and no humanity left in you. But, I say, he is a mean contemptible man,--whether it be you, or any one else,--who can thus insult me, bad as I am. I can bear anything but that, and that I won't bear from any man. _Especially_--” and she laid strong emphasis on her words, and pointed with her finger emphatically to the person she addressed:--“Especially from such a man as you: for you know that if it had not been for you and your wife--” Longstaff began to lose his colour somewhat rapidly, and to look half a dozen degrees more sober.