“And so I strive to do,” said John. “But only, I say, if it had pleased God to order it otherwise, it’s a pity the wicked should come _just_ after us to enjoy themselves, when they have robbed us of all.” “Not of all,” said Mr. Percy. “What is it they have not robbed us of?” cried John: “not a thing but they must have from us.” “No; the best of all things we keep for ourselves--it cannot be taken from us--a good conscience.” “Worth all the rest--that’s true,” said John; “and that is what he will never have who is coming here to-morrow--never--never! They say he don’t sleep at nights. But I’ll say no more about him, only--he’s not a good man.” “I am sure, John, you are not a good courtier,” said Mrs. Percy, smiling: “you ought to prepare to pay your court to your new master.” “_My_ new master!” cried John, growing red: “the longest day ever I live, I’ll never have a new master! All that I have in the world came from you, and I’ll never have another master. Sure you will let me follow you? I will be no trouble: though but little, may be I can do something still. Surely, madam--surely, sir--young ladies, you’ll speak for me--I shall be let to follow the fortunes of the family, and go along with you into _banishment_.” “My good John,” said Mr. Percy, “since you desire to follow us into _banishment_, as you call it, you shall; and as long as we have any thing upon earth, you shall never want. You must stay here to-morrow, after we are gone, to give up possession.” (John could not stand this, but turned away to hide his face.) “When your business is done,” continued Mr. Percy, “you may set out and follow us as soon as you please.” “I thank you, sir, kindly,” said John, with a most grateful bow, that took in all the family, “that’s new life to me.” He said not a word more during the rest of the walk, except just as he passed near the beach where the ship was wrecked, he exclaimed, “There was the first beginning of all our misfortune: who would have thought that when we gave them shelter we should be turned out so soon ourselves? ‘twas that drunken rascal of a Dutch carpenter was the cause of all!” The next morning the whole family set out in an open carriage, which had been made for the purpose of carrying as many of the young people as possible upon excursions of pleasure. It was a large sociable, which they used to call their _caravan_. At the great gate of the park old John stopped the carriage, and leaning over to his master, whispered, “I beg your pardon, sir, but God bless you, and don’t drive through the village: if you please, take the back road; for I’ve just learned that _he_ is on the great road, and as near hand as the turn at the school-house, and they say he wants to be driving in his coach and four through the village as you are all going out--now I wouldn’t for any thing he had that triumph over us.” “Thank you, good John,” said Mr. Percy, “but such triumphs cannot mortify us.”