THE DISMISSAL.

IT was after dinner. Sir John and his friends had somehow been
less jovial than usual; they were absolutely dull enough to be talking
politics. So, when the boy of many buttons tapped at the door, and
meekly brought in Jonathan's message, recounting also how he had got Mr.
Jennings in tow for some inexplicable crime, the strangeness of the
affair was a very welcome incident: both host and guests hailed it an
adventure.

"By all means, let Jonathan come in."

The trio were just outside; and when the blue and silver footman,
hauling in by his unrelinquished throat that scared bailiff, and
followed by the blushing village beauty, stood within the room, Sir John
and his half-dozen friends greeted the _tableau_ with united
acclamations.

"I say, Pypp, that's a devilish fine creature," metaphorically remarked
the Honorable Lionel Poynter.

"Yaas." Lord George was a long, sallow, slim young man, with a goatish
beard, like the Duc d'Aumale's; he affected extreme fashion and infinite
_sangfroid_.

"Well, Jonathan, what is it?" asked the baronet.

"Why, in one word, my honoured master, this scoundrel here has been
wickedly insulting my own poor dear Grace, by promising to save her
father from the gallows if--if--"

"If what, man? speak out," said Mr. Poynter.

"You don't mean to say, Jennings, that you are brute enough to be
seducing that poor man Roger's daughter, just as he's going to be tried
for his life?" asked Sir John.

Simon uttered nothing in reply; but Grace burst into tears.

"A fair idea that, 'pon my honour," drawled the chivalrous Pypp,
proceeding to direct his delicate attentions towards the weeping damsel.

"Simon Jennings," said Sir John, after pausing in vain for his reply, "I
have long wished to get rid of you, sir. Silence! I know you, and have
been finding out your rascally proceedings these ten days past. I have
learnt much, more than you may fancy: and now this crowning villany
[what if he had known of the ulterior designs?] gives me fair occasion
to say once and for ever, begone!"

Jennings drew himself up with an air of insufferable impudence, and
quietly answered,

"John Vincent, I am proud to leave your service. I trust I can afford to
live without your help."

There was a general outcry at this speech, and Jonathan collared him
again; but the baronet calmly set all straight by saying,

"Perhaps, sir, you may not be aware that your systematic thievings and
extor