"Quite right. Bring him in at once. Stop a moment. Put two or three `Statutes at Large' and `Burns' Justice of the Peace' on the table." The man hurriedly gave the side-table a magisterial look with four or fire pie-crust coloured quartos and a couple of bulky manuals, while Wilton turned to his wife. "Here, Maria," he growled, in a low tone; "you'd better be off." "Oh, don't send me away, please, dear," she whispered; "it isn't one of those horrid cases you have sometimes, and I do so want to hear." "Very well; only don't speak." "No, my dear, not a word," whispered Mrs Wilton, and she half closed her eyes and pinched her lips together, but her ears twitched as she sat waiting anxiously for the return of the footman, followed by the groom, who seemed to have had no little trouble in pushing and dragging a rough-looking lout of about eighteen into the room, where he stood with his smock frock raised on each side so as to allow his hands to be thrust deeply into his trousers pockets. "Take your hat off," said Samuel, in a sharp whisper. "Sheeawn't!" said the fellow, defiantly. "I arn't done nothin'." Samuel promptly knocked the hat off on to the floor, which necessitated a hand being taken slowly from a pocket to pick it up. "Here, don't you do that ag'in," cried the lad. "Silence, sir. Stand up," cried Wilton. "Mayn't I pick up my hat? I arn't done nothin'." "Say `sir'," whispered the footman. "Sheeawn't. I arn't done nothin', I tell yer. No business to bring me here." "Silence, sir," cried Wilton, taking up a pen and shaking it at the lad, which acted upon him as if it were some terrible judicial wand which might write a document consigning him to hard labour, skilly, and bread and water in the county jail. The consequence being that he stood with his head bent forward, brow one mass of wrinkles, and mouth partly open, staring at the fierce-looking justice of the peace. "Listen to me: you are not brought here for punishment." "Well, I arn't done nothin'," said the lad. "I am glad to hear it, and I hope you will improve, Barker. Now, what you have to do is to answer a few questions, and if you do so truthfully and well, you will be rewarded." "Beer?" said the lout, with a grin. "My servant will give you some beer as you go out, but first of all I shall give you a shilling." The fellow grinned. "Shall I get the book and swear him, sir?" said Samuel, who was used to the library being turned into a court for petty cases. "There is no need," said Wilton austerely. "Now, my lad, answer me." "Yes, I sin 'em both last night." "Saw whom?" "Young Squire and his gal." "Young Squire" made Mrs Wilton smile; "his gal" seemed to set her teeth on edge. "Humph! Are you sure?" said Wilton. "Sewer? Ay, I know young Squire well enough. Hit me many a time. Haw-haw! Know young Squire--I should think I do!" "Say `sir,'" whispered Samuel again. "Sheeawn't," cried the fellow. "You mind your own business."