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“Oh, I must look into this business,” said the squire.
“Did you say your wife, my poor man, gave my purse to a servant—to what servant?”
“I can’t tell his name rightly,” said John “because I don’t know it; but never trust Nance’s eyes again if she can’t point him out to your honour, if so your honour is desirous of knowing.”
“Then do you and Nance, as you call her, come up to the hall this evening, and I’ll inquire into the matter, I promise you.” So saying, the squire rode off.
John and his wife went up accordingly in the evening, and he gave a small rap with the big knocker at tho great door. The door was opened by a grand servant, who, without hearing what the poor people had to say, exclaimed, “Oh, go!—go—what business can yon have here?” and shut the door.
John’s wife burst out crying—“There,” said she, sobbing as if her heart would break, “I knew that would be the end of it.”
But John had not been in merry England merely to get his twelve guineas packed in two cakes. “No,” said he firmly, “right is right, and I’ll sec end the of it.” So he sat himself down on the step of the door, determined not to go until he saw the young squire; and, as it happened, it was not long before he came out.
“I have been expecting you some time, John,” said he; “come and bring your wife in;” and he made them go before him into the house. Immediately he directed all the servants to come up stairs; and such an
