"Why! Stap my vitals, ’tis what I wish to know. I’ve rid post from Breda through the most villainous rain ever I saw. Look, I’m splashed to the eyes; my third best wig is utterly ruined; the colour of my waistcoat has run; ’twas a heavenly puce, and I’ll be even with the tailor, hang him! that swore the colour was fast. As for my new jack-boots—look ’ee, they’re not fit for a ploughman. And why! You may well ask." "Well, you have a reason, I suppose. You want more money for your drunken orgies—is that it?" "Hark to that, now! Was ever poor wretch so scurvily used by his own father! Why——" "Come, a truce to your prating. Your reason, sir, and at once." "A warm welcome, egad! Well, sir, I’ve a something for you, a billet-doux; ha! ha!" The squire sprang up with an agility surprising in a man of his years. There was a look of expectancy, almost of joy, in his eyes, and he held forth his hand eagerly. "Give it me," he said. "You will deal handsomely by me," said the youth; "consider, ’tis not every son would ride through pelting rain and spoil his garments withal for——" "Give it me, I say," cried the old man passionately. Piers took from an inner pocket a letter, sealed with a big red seal. The squire’s eyes gleamed as he took it and saw the handwriting of the address; his hand trembled as he tore away the seal and unfolded the paper. Then came a sudden change. The pallor of his cheeks became a deathly white, his features were distorted with rage, he muttered a curse and flung the letter to the floor. "Gadzooks, ’tis not a billet-doux, then," piped his son, stooping to pick up the paper. "Let it lie!" shouted the old man. "Lay not a finger on it, you—you puppy!" "Why, there now," said the youth in an aggrieved tone. "That is all the thanks I get for adventuring myself in the fury of the elements, and ruining past cure as fine a coat as ever was seen in Spring Garden." "Silence! Hold your foolish tongue! You’re a useless fool! You’re a scented fop, the mock of every farthing playwright in the kingdom. Heavens! what have I done that I should be cursed with a brainless, senseless coxcomb that can do nothing but squander good money in fal-lals and worse!" "Odsnigs! ’tis most villainous injustice. I can do many things, egad. I can make a good leg, and trounce a watchman, and pink a cit, and——" "Out of my sight, out of my sight!" cried the exasperated father, stepping forward with uplifted hand as though to strike the poor fool. "Zoons! I protest this——" But he left the sentence perforce unfinished, for the squire caught him by the shoulders and exerting all his strength thrust him from the room, turning the key, and standing for a moment with hand on heart to recover his breath. Then he suddenly opened the door again, caught the young man before he had gone three steps, swung him round, and holding him in a firm grip said: