Sir Watkin looked in the direction pointed out, and, sure enough, there was his old enemy. Conducted off the ground by one gate, she had reappeared by another, and was bearing down, amidst the jeers of the _oi polloi_, straight upon himself. ‘Confound her impudence!’ he exclaimed. ‘I wish I had given her in charge.’ ‘Sir Watkin, I say! Sir Watkin, hear me! I’ve something very particular to say.’ ‘Yes, but you can’t say it now, my good woman. Don’t you see I am engaged?’ Again a crowd assembled in full expectation of some fun—an extra entertainment not included in the day’s programme. Again, fortunately, the policeman appeared. ‘Now, my good woman,’ said he, ‘he hoff. Don’t you see you are creatin’ a disturbance?’ ‘I am a-doin’ w’at?’ asked the party addressed. ‘You are a-creatin’ a disturbance and hinterferin’ with the gentry. It is agen the law. You’d best take yourself off.’ ‘Oh, I am a-goin’, but I must speak to Sir Watkin first.’ ‘Call at the Hall, old gal, and leave your card, and then Sir Watkin will be delighted to see you,’ cried one in the crowd. ‘The family dine at seven. Don’t forget the hour.’ ‘Yes,’ said another, ‘Sir Watkin will be pleased to see such a beauty. He’ll want you to stop with him a month. Sir Watkin knows a pretty gal when he sees one—no one better.’ But by this time Sir Watkin and his party were off. His groom had come to the rescue and brought up the horses, and they remounted, leaving the tipsy woman to scream after him in vain. This time, however, her blood was up, and she refused to be led quietly off. Another constable came to the rescue of his mate, and she was carried off, kicking and struggling all the while. Her cries filled the air and reached the Baronet’s party. ‘’Tis very annoying, but one can’t help such things on a public day like this,’ said he in an apologetic tone to the lady. ‘The poor woman must be cracked, I think. ‘It makes one ashamed of one’s sex,’ was her reply. ‘Such conduct ought not to be allowed. The police aren’t half sharp enough,’ said the British merchant. ‘What do we pay rates and taxes for, I should like to know, but to prevent such disturbances?’ The British merchant evidently expected the British public to be as subdued and deferential as his clerks in his counting-house, when they appeared in his august and imposing presence, or as his debtors, when bills were overdue. The ladies of his party had left the field early—their ears stunned with the noisy scene: ‘With the striking of clocks, Cackle of hens, crowing of cocks, Lowing of cow and bull and ox, Bleating of pretty pastoral flocks.’ Sir Watkin and his friend, the British merchant, had stopped to dine at the grand banquet held on the occasion, in the leading hotel of the town. An Englishman can do nothing without a public dinner. Sir Watkin had to take the chair. ‘You will excuse me, won’t you?’ said he to the young lady, as he parted with her.