Left to himself, Sherebiah ordered a pint of small beer, and sat for an hour longer, ruminating, with knit brows and compressed lips. More than once he got up and walked round the deal table, stopping to take a pull at the tankard, heaving a sigh, then going on again. He was disquieted. The sudden discovery that the squire’s animosity was pursuing Harry no less perplexed than disturbed him. Harry and Mr. Berkeley had never met at close quarters; there had been no intercourse between hall and parsonage. A personal cause of offence was, as it seemed to Sherebiah, out of the question; yet it was strange that the squire’s hatred of the father should extend to the son. At length, muttering "No one can tell what’s what with the likes o’ old Squire," Sherebiah brought his big fist down on to the table with a bang that made the pewter jump and rattle, and fetched the drawer from his place in the bar. "What d’ye lack?" said the man. "Nothen, sonny, nothen. ’Tis a way o’ mine to hit out when I be a-thinken, a bold way for a man o’ peace, true. Bacon at half arter seven, drawer,—and we be country eaters, mind ’ee. Good-night!" *CHAPTER VI* *My Lord Marlborough makes a Note* London Streets—A Chair!—A Great Man’s Portals—An Effort of Memory—Patronage—Marlborough—A Step in the Peerage—A Memorandum—A Friend in London—A Dinner at Locket’s—Mr. Colley Cibber—Great Expectations—A Thick Stick—Prevarication Harry was awake long before Sherebiah tapped at his door next morning. His projected visit to Lord Godolphin gave him some concern. He had no tremors of shyness at the thought of meeting the Lord Treasurer; but, ignorant as he was of London ways, he knew not how to time his visit, and could hope for no counsel on that point from Sherebiah. He was too much excited to do justice to the crisp rashers which were placed before him at the breakfast-table, and felt little disposed to converse with Jan Grootz the Dutchman opposite. Sherebiah had taken upon himself to wait at table, but, as a privileged servitor, did not think it unbecoming to throw in a word here and there. He gave Grootz his views on the price of oats and the policy of King Louis of France with equal assurance. "Know ye where de lord live?" asked the Dutchman suddenly. Harry had forgotten that he had mentioned his errand to his fellow-passenger, and for the moment repented his confidence. Before he could reply, Grootz went on: "He live over against the Queen’s Wood Yard, by Thames-side, leading to Scotland Yard. My vrient John Evelyn built de house. I have been dere." "Oh!" exclaimed Harry. "Then can you tell me the best time to visit him?"