"Let him. Let him hear me, and let him know that there's a free, enlightened Englishman beneath the same roof. Let him know that there's one here breathing the free--free light--breath of heaven here. A man too humble to call himself a paytriot, but who feels like one, and moans over the sufferings of his down-trampled brothers." "I tell you he'll hear you directly, and we shall have to go." "Let him hear me," shouted Simeon, "and let him drive us out--drive us into the free air of heaven. It'll only be a new specimint of the bloated priesthood trampling down and gloating over the sufferings of the poor. Who's he--a coming down here with his cassicks and gowns to read and riot on his five hundred a year in a house like this, when the hard-working body of brothers on the local plan can preach wi'out having it written down, and wi'out cassicks and gowns, and get nothing for it but glory! Let him hear me." "Thou fulsome! hold thy stupid tongue," cried Mrs Slee. "Never!" exclaimed Simeon, who counted this his opportunity after being baffled in the forenoon. "I'll be trampled on no more by any bloated oligarch of a priest or master. I've been slave too--too long. I'm starving now, but what then? I can be a martyr to a holy cause--the 'oly cause of freedom. Let him riot in his food and raiment--let him turn us out, and some day--some day--I say some day--" Mr Slee paused in his oratory, for his wife had clapped her hand over his mouth; but just then the door opened, and the vicar stood in the opening. Mrs Slee dropped her hand, while Simeon thrust his right into his breast, orator fashion, and faced the new-comer with inborn dignity. "How do, Mr Slee," said the vicar, quietly. "We met before this morning. I merely came to say that I cannot help hearing every word that is spoken in this room." "The words that I said--" began Simeon. "And," continued the vicar, "I have quite done, if you will clear away, Mrs Slee. I am going to see about a few more necessaries for the place, and to look out for a gardener, unless your husband likes the job." "Garden!" said Simeon; "I dig!" "I often do," said the vicar, coolly. "It's very healthy work. Famous for the appetite. By the way, Mr Slee, I heard you say you were hungry. Mrs Slee, pray don't save anything on the table; you are quite welcome." He walked out of the place, and Mrs Slee, who, poor woman, looked ravenously hungry, hastened to spread their own table. "That for you," said Simeon, snapping his fingers after the retreating form. "I care that for you--a bloated priest. Of course, we're to eat his husks--a swine--his leavings. No; I'll rather starve than be treated so." "Howd thy silly tongue, thou fulsome!" exclaimed Mrs Slee, "and thank the Lord there is something sent for thee. You talk like that! Oh, Sim, Sim, if ever there was a shack, it's thou."