“Because she’s one of my performers, of course. But, come! I’ve had enough of this; I can’t stop talking here all day; I want the child--so just deliver her up at once, will you?--and turn out Peck as soon as you like after. I’ll cure them both of ever doing this sort of thing again! I’ll make them stick tight to the circus for the future! I’ll show them--” “You would be employing your time much more usefully,” said Doctor Joyce, “if you occupied it in altering the bills of your performance, so as to inform the public that the deaf and dumb child will not appear before them again.” “Not appear again?--not appear to-night in my circus? Why, hang me! if I don’t think you’re trying to be funny all of a sudden! Alter my bills--eh? Not bad! Upon my soul, not at all bad for a parson! Give us another joke, sir; I’m all attention.” And Mr. Jubber put his hand to his ear, grinning in a perfect fury of sarcasm. “I am quite in earnest,” said the rector. “A friend of mine has adopted the child, and will take her home with him tomorrow morning. Mrs. Peckover (the only person who has any right to exercise control over her) has consented to this arrangement. If your business here was to take the child back to your circus, it is right to inform you that she will not leave my house till she goes to London to-morrow with my friend.” “And you think I’m the sort of man to stand this?--and give up the child?--and alter the bills?--and lose money?--and be as mild as mother’s milk all the time? Oh! yes, of course! I’m so devilish fond of you and your friend! You’re such nice men, you can make me do anything! Damn all this jabber and nonsense!” roared the ruffian, passing suddenly from insolence to fury, and striking his fist on the table. “Give me the child at once, do you hear? Give her up, I say. I won’t leave the house till I’ve got her!” Just as Mr. Jubber swore for the second time, Doctor Joyce rang the bell. “I told you what I should do, if you used oaths in my presence again,” said the rector. “And _I_ told _you_ I’d kill the servant, if he laid a finger on me,” said Jubber, knocking his hat firmly on his head, and tucking up his cuffs. Vance appeared at the door, much less pompous than usual and displaying an interesting paleness of complexion. Jubber spat into the palm of each of his hands, and clenched his fists. “Have you done dinner down stairs?” asked Doctor Joyce, reddening a little, but still very quiet. “Yes, sir,” answered Vance, in a remarkably conciliating voice. “Tell James to go to the constable, and say I want him; and let the gardener wait with you outside there in the hall.”