“Blockhead!” exclaimed Sir Waldron to Batter; “am I not to have an answer to my question? let the man speak, and do you behave with common sense, or, by heaven, I'll commit you.--Speak, tinker, how do you account for your wishing to take this child in preference to your own? I must tell you, that it looks strange and suspicious.” “Why,” replied the tinker, “I ha'n't no wish in particular about it:--to be sure, I took a fancy to her; she hath such a main pretty little nob, and a pearly sort of an eye, just like my best almond tumbler pigeon at home--and the poney likes her; so its natural, you see, your worship: but then, I don't covet her; only keep her out of these chaps' clutches, that's all I say; except, mind me, this:--I wouldn't offend your worship for the world; I'd pretty near die first,--but, look'ee, Sir Waldron, if your constable pokes I in the ribs again, as he hath twice, I'll just make so free as to break his neck, here right, if I do die for't;--it's nature you know.” “This language is improper;--we must not hear it,” observed Reginald. “How dare you strike the man?” exclaimed Sir Waldron. “I merely gave him a hint--” “Hold your tongue--quit the room--or stop--stay--I'll consider whether I ought not to order Batter to take you into custody.” The little girl now stepped from behind the pedlar's pack, and advancing close to Sir Waldron, with a smile playing over her features, said to the magistrate, “If you please, sir, may I speak, now every body's done?” “Certainly, child,” replied the baronet; “what have you to say?--what is your name?” “Agnes, sir.” “Agnes what, child?--what is your other name?” The little girl made no reply, but looked alternately at Sir Waldron and the prisoners, and the tears gushed from her eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” said the baronet. “Perhaps, brother,--you know best,” observed Reginald;--“but perhaps there is some mystery in this matter, something that lies deeper than you imagine. The child may be intimidated from speaking the truth in the presence of these three good people.” “Do you think so?--Well, then, I'll take her apart into my study,” replied Sir Waldron: “come,” added he, addressing the child, “come with me, Agnes; do not be frightened.” “Bless you, I am not frightened,” said the child; “I'm very glad.” “Ay, ay,” quoth Reginald, “it is as I suspected, very clearly; Batter and Quality, look well to these honest fellows.” The prisoners loudly exclaimed against Reginald's suspicions; but Batter, by dint of bawling, and Quality, by the virtue of his apothegms, soon restored order, and Agnes followed Sir Waldron into the adjoining room. “Now, my dear,” said the baronet, taking a chair, and drawing Agnes between his knees, “what have you to say? Why not tell your name before the people in the parlour? Is either of those men related to you?” “Oh, no! no, indeed! I never saw them before to-day.” “And whose child are you?”