an Heretic, and so
is my knave John here. There's nothing like the old Faith. There's
nothing like Relics. Didn't I see a prodigious claw set in gold only
yesterday in the Barnabite Church, and wasn't that the true and
undoubted relic of a Griffin?"

"Was the Griffin a Saint?" asks the Chaplain humbly.

"What's that to you?" retorts my Master. "You're a Heretic, you're a
Scoffer, an Infidel! I tell you that I mean to become a Monk."

"What, and wear peas in your shoes! nay, go without shoes at all, and
leave off cutting your toe-nails?" quoth the Chaplain, much irate.
"Forsake washing and the Thirty-nine Articles! Shave your head and
forswear the Act of Settlement! Wear a rope girdle and a rosary instead
of a handsome sword with a silver hilt at your side! Go about begging
and bawling of paternosters! Was it for this that I, a Clergyman of the
Church of England, came abroad with you to keep you in the True Faith
and a Proper respect for the Protestant Succession?" Mr. Hodge had quite
forgotten the value of his Patron's favour, and was growing really
angry. In those days men would really make sacrifices for conscience'
sake.

"Hang the Protestant Succession, and you too!" screams Mr. Pinchin.

"Jacobite, Papist, Warming Pan!" roars the Chaplain, "I will delate you
to the English Envoy here, and you shall be laid by the heels as soon as
ever you set foot in England. You shall swing for this, sir!"

"Leave the Room!" yells Mr. Pinchin, starting up, but trembling in every
limb, for he was hardly yet convalescent of his Fever.

"I won't," answers the sturdy Chaplain. "You wretched rebellious little
Ape, I arrest you in the King's name and Convocation's. I'll teach you
to malign the Act of Settlement, I will!"

Whenever Mr. Hodge assumed a certain threatening tone, and began to
pluck at his cassock in a certain manner, Mr. Pinchin was sure to grow
frightened. He was beginning to look scared, when I, who remembering my
place as a servant had hitherto said nothing, ventured to interpose.

"Oh, Mr. Pinchin!" I pleaded, "think of your Mamma in England. Why, it
will break the good lady's heart if you go Romewards, Sir. Think of your
Estate. Think of your tenants and the Commission of the Peace, and the
duties of a Liveryman of the City of London."

I knew that I had touched my Master in a tender part, and anon he began
to whimper, and cry about his Mamma, who, he shrewdly enough remarked,
might cause his Estate to be se