’Who are you? I don’t know you. Never had the pleasure of seeing your face that I am aware of. What may your d—d name be, hey?’ ’Sir,’ said Herring, rising, ’I will stand no insolence. When you ask my name properly, you shall have it.’ ’O Lord! who cares a brass button what you be called? Keep your name to yourself if you like.’ Herring walked straight up to him, composedly and firmly, looked him full in the eyes, and said, ’You have been drinking. Remove your hat, or I will knock it off.’ Tramplara took off his beaver and put it testily on the table. ’I am not a bad fellow,’ he said, ’when asked a civil question, but I object to be bullied.’ Then he seated himself near the table, looking sulky. ’I am Mr. Sampson Trampleasure, junior, gentleman,’ he said. ’Now perhaps you will tell me your name.’ Herring gave him in return his sur and Christian names. ’Never heard of you,’ said Tramplara. ’What are you doing here?’ Herring made no reply to his impertinence. ’I say,’ began the young man again, in a loud tone, ’I won’t have those Cobbledicks encroaching. I saw that old Bufflehead, Grizzly, but could not make him understand, or leastways he wouldn’t understand.’ Mr. Battishill bridled up feebly. ’You are premature, Mr. Sampson; West Wyke is my property, and I have the right to settle on it whom I choose.’ ’Oh, ah! that’s good,’ said young Tramplara. ’Yours on sufferance. You know well enough that my governor has his foot under your chair, and can kick you over any day he has a mind to.’ ’When he does that he can deal with the Cobbledicks as well. Naked came we into the world, and naked we shall go out, Battishills and Cobbledicks together.’ ’That’ll soon take place unless you shell out. You know what I have come about.’ Mr. Battishill’s brief indignation and assumption of dignity expired. He put his hand into his pocket, and drew forth his handkerchief, and wiped his lips. ’You have come on an unfortunate day, Mr. Sampson. We have had a death in the house.’ ’I don’t care whether there be a death or a birth,’ answered the young man rudely. ’I know one thing, if I do not go back with the interest due last Lady in my pocket, there’ll be pretty summary dealings in a place and with persons not the other side of London, nor in China, nor New Zealand, nor Bra——! Why! how in the name of Ginger came this into your hands?’ His eye was resting on the will that lay open as John Herring had left it when extracting from it the address of Mr. Eustace Smith. He put out the crook of his whip and drew it over to him. ’Ten thousand crocodiles! There is my name in it. Sampson Trampleasure, of Falmouth, Solicitor. No! that is my father. Last will and testament of James Strange, of Bahia, Brazil! Why, that’s a kinsman of ours. My grandmother was a Strange. How the devil came this into your hands?’