One day this ready converser was standing on the steps of the house,
when a gentleman came to the wicket gate, and looked over into the
garden.
Young master darted to the gate directly, and getting his foot on the
lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, gave tongue.
"Who are you? _I'm_ Mr. Bassett. I don't live here; I'm only staying.
My home is Huncom Hall. I'm to have it for myself when papa dies. I
didn't know dat till I come here. How old are you? I'm half past
four--"
A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was clutched up by Mrs.
Meyrick, who snatched him away with a wild glance of terror and
defiance, and bore him swiftly into the house, with words ringing in
her ears that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she could
punish. She sat down on a bench, flung young master across her knee in
a minute, and bestowed such a smacking on him as far transcended his
wildest dreams of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm.
The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with were these:
"Too late! I've SEEN THE PARSON'S BRAT."
Richard Bassett mounted his horse and rode over to Wheeler, for he
could no longer wheedle the man of law over to Highmore, and I will
very briefly state why.
1st. About three years ago an old lady, one of his few clients, left
him three thousand pounds, just reward of a very little law and a vast
deal of gossip.
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