“I’ll make him know it, and I’ll make _you_ know it, too,” said Archer. “Before I came here you reigned alone, now your reign is over, Mr. De Grey. Remember my majority this morning, and your theatre last night.” “He has remembered it,” said Fisher. “You see, the moment he was not to be our manager, we were to have no theatre, no playhouse, no plays. We must all sit down with our hands before us—all for ‘_good reasons_’ of Dr. Middleton’s, which he does not vouchsafe to tell us.” “I won’t be governed by any man’s reasons that he won’t tell me,” cried Archer. “He cannot have good reasons, or why not tell them?” “Nonsense!” said De Grey. “_We shall not suspect him of caprice_!” “Why not?” “Because we who know him, have never known him capricious.” “Perhaps not. _I_ know nothing about him,” said Archer. “No,” said De Grey; “for that very reason _I_ speak who do know him. Don’t be in a passion, Archer.” “I will be in a passion. I won’t submit to tyranny. I won’t be made a fool of by a few soft words. You don’t know me, De Grey. I’ll go through with what I’ve begun. I am manager, and I will be manager; and you shall see my theatre finished in spite of you, and _my_ party triumphant.” “Party,” repeated De Grey. “I cannot imagine what is in the word ‘party’ that seems to drive you mad. We never heard of parties till you came amongst us.” “No; before I came, I say, nobody dared oppose you; but I dare; and I tell you to your face, take care of me—a warm friend and a bitter enemy is my motto.” “I am not your enemy! I believe you are out of your senses, Archer!” said he, laughing. “Out of my senses! No; you are my enemy! Are you not my rival? Did not you win the premium? Did not you want to be manager? Answer me, are not you, in one word, a Greybeard?” “You called me a Greybeard, but my name is De Grey,” said he, still laughing. “Laugh on!” cried the other, furiously. “Come, _Archers_, follow me. _We_ shall laugh by-and-by, I promise you.” At the door Archer was stopped by Mr. Chip. “Oh, Mr. Chip, I am ordered to discharge you.” “Yes, sir; and here’s a little bill—” “Bill, Mr. Chip! why, you have not been at work for two hours!” “Not much over, sir; but if you’ll please to look into it, you’ll see ’tis for a few things you ordered. The stuff is all laid out and delivered. The paper and the festoon-bordering for the drawing room scene is cut out, and left yAnder within.” “Y_a_nder, within! I wish you had not been in such a confounded hurry—six-and-twenty shillings!” cried he; “but I can’t stay to talk about it now. I’ll tell you, Mr. Chip,” said Archer, lowering his voice, “what you must do for me, my good fellow.” Then, drawing Mr. Chip aside, he begged him to pull down some of the wood work which had been put up, and to cut it into a certain number of wooden bars, of which he gave him the dimensions, with orders to place them all, when ready, under a haystack, which he pointed out.