Stafford was interrupted in his reverie by his master; who, in an angry voice, called for him to inquire why he had not, according to his orders, served out some oats for his horses the preceding day. The truth was, that anxiety about Rose and the ball had made him totally forget the oats. Stafford coloured a good deal, confessed that he had done very wrong to forget the oats, but that he would go to the granary immediately, and serve them out to the groom. Perhaps Stafford’s usual exactness might have rendered his omission pardonable to any less irritable and peremptory master than Sir H. O’Brien. When Sterne once heard a master severely reprimanding a servant for some trifling fault, he said to the gentleman, “My dear sir, we should not expect to have every virtue under the sun for 20_l_. a-year.” Sir Hyacinth O’Brien expected to have them for merely the promise of 20_l_. a-year. Though he never punctually paid his servants’ wages, he abused them most insolently whenever he was in a passion. Upon the present occasion, his ill-humour was heightened by jealousy. “I wish, sir,” cried he to Stafford, after pouring forth a volley of oaths, “you would mind your business, and not run after objects that are not fit for you. You are become good for nothing of late; careless, insolent, and not fit to be trusted.” Stafford bore all that his master said till he came to the words not fit to be trusted; but the moment those were uttered, he could no longer command himself; he threw down the great key of the granary, which he held in his hand, and exclaimed, “Not fit to be trusted! Is this the reward of all my services? Not fit to be trusted! Then I have no business here.” “The sooner you go the better, sir,” cried the angry baronet, who, at this instant, desired nothing more than to get him out of his way. “You had best set off for England directly: I have no farther occasion for your services.” Stafford said not a word more, but retired from his master’s presence to conceal his emotion; and, when he was alone, burst into tears, repeating to himself, “So this is the reward of all my services!” When Sir Hyacinth’s passion cooled, he reflected that seven years’ wages were due to Stafford; and as it was not convenient to him at this election time to part with so much ready money, he resolved to compromise. It was not from any sense of justice; therefore it must be said he had the meanness to apologize to his steward, and to hint that he was welcome to remain, if he pleased, in his service.