“We are not bound to answer questions, young gentleman,” said Mr. Barnes; “we are sorry if you are disappointed, but you must leave us just now, as there is another person to examine, and our time is short.” Arthur could not help laughing, in spite of his chagrin; and yet his fingers tingled with a desire to box the speaker’s ears. He made his bow, however, and told his kind friend, Mr. Green, how cavalierly he had been used. Mr. Green was too much surprised to make a remark; and his wife observed, with much anger, that old Crosbie ought to be tarred and feathered, for taking away the character of an innocent man. Arthur told them that he must get sight of the letter, for until he knew what had been alledged against him, he could not defend himself. And while they were yet speaking, Godfried Darg entered with his dogs, to say that he had been found worthy, and should enter on his duties the beginning of the week. He nodded impudently to Arthur, and observed as he went to the kennels, that it was a pity the young gentleman had not been accepted, as he had too much learning to be allowed to starve for the want of employment. Martha Green, the landlord’s daughter, whispered something in her father’s ear, and he shook his head. She spoke to her mother, who listened with more complacency, for she beckoned her husband out of the room. “I shall just say a few words to you, Mr. Hazerelle,” said the landlord, as he returned, “and they are this: there is your room, and here is your table; and in my house you remain until you can get some employment. I did hope that what I said to those ninnies yonder would have been sufficient to satisfy them; as it is, however, they can employ this rough old fellow if they choose, but they shall have no child of mine—and that will worry them a little. After dinner, I shall propose something to you which I hope will suit you better than to torment yourself with young children.” At dinner Godfried Darg conducted himself quietly and respectfully—the very reverse of his conduct before he was chosen schoolmaster, at which the little party were surprised—for they expected he would be a perfect nuisance. He ate in silence, and as soon as he finished, got up, took the bones from his own, and, in fact, from all the plates at table, and went to the kennel to feed his dogs—Howler and Barker, as he called them.