"Shall I not go home with you to your own house?" asked Jack, who saw that the priest's head was beginning to be affected by the liquor he had drank. "You may be attacked with giddiness by the way, and perhaps have another fall." "Do so, do so, my dear son," replied Sir John. "Why, you are a good lad after all, as I said but now, and surely no heretic as that pestilent conceited clerk of mine pretends. 'Twas he got me into this scrape, a plague upon him! I should have never thought of listening but for him." "Oh ho! Then you were listening," thought Jack, "and I dare say Master Sacristan has been listening too. I will cut down that thorn tomorrow, and set old Bevis to watch." "If folk would only mind their own business, there would be none of this trouble," continued Sir John, whose tongue was thoroughly loosed. "Here is Father Barnaby now has been lecturing me about seeking out heretics in my parish and watching who comes to mass. I am sure, if the heretics will let me alone, I am willing to let them alone; and as to the people coming to mass, let them come or go as it pleases them, so long as they pay their dues and live in peace. Say you not so, my son?" "Indeed I do, father," replied Jack; "and besides, it stands to reason, that if people pay their dues they can be no heretics; does it not?" "Right, right!" exclaimed Father John. "You reason as well as an Oxford scholar. If they pay, they are no heretics, because if they were heretics, they would not pay; 'tis clear as Aristotle. All my parishioners pay their dues, therefore there are no heretics in the parish, and Father Barnaby may go hang! Say you not so?" "That I do with all my heart," replied Jack, gravely. "But here we are at your door. If I might venture to advise, your reverence will go at once to bed, and take a hot posset to keep off any farther effects of cold. I will bring the strong waters the first time I go to Bridgewater." All the way back to the hill Jack laughed over the adventure, but the shepherd looked very grave on hearing the poor priest's words. "I do not like the look of it," said he. "There may be no harm in poor Father John, who is, with all reverence, fonder of his table and his comfortable cup of spiced ale, than of anything else in life; but I know something of Father Barnaby. He has a keen scent for heresy, and he will be none the sweeter in temper for this suppression of the convent. We must be very careful." The next day, Jack cut down the thornbushes and levelled the ground. "I hope I am not shutting the door when the steed is stolen," he thought. "How could I be so careless as not to think of the thornbushes?" CHAPTER VII. FATHER JOHN AT HOME.