Lord George, looking thoughtfully at him. 'And you?'

'Oh! They left me here to watch--to mount guard--to keep everything
secure till they come back. I'll do it, sir, for your sake. You're a
good gentleman; a kind gentleman--ay, you are. There are many against
you, but we'll be a match for them, never fear!'

'What's that?' said Lord George--pointing to the raven who was peeping
out of the stable-door--but still looking thoughtfully, and in some
perplexity, it seemed, at Barnaby.

'Why, don't you know!' retorted Barnaby, with a wondering laugh. 'Not
know what HE is! A bird, to be sure. My bird--my friend--Grip.'

'A devil, a kettle, a Grip, a Polly, a Protestant, no Popery!' cried the
raven.

'Though, indeed,' added Barnaby, laying his hand upon the neck of Lord
George's horse, and speaking softly: 'you had good reason to ask me what
he is, for sometimes it puzzles me--and I am used to him--to think
he's only a bird. He's my brother, Grip is--always with me--always
talking--always merry--eh, Grip?'

The raven answered by an affectionate croak, and hopping on his master's
arm, which he held downward for that purpose, submitted with an air of
perfect indifference to be fondled, and turned his restless, curious
eye, now upon Lord George, and now upon his man.

Lord George, biting his nails in a discomfited manner, regarded Barnaby
for some time in silence; then beckoning to his servant, said:

'Come hither, John.'

John Grueby touched his hat, and came.

'Have you ever seen this young man before?' his master asked in a low
voice.

'Twice, my lord,' said John. 'I saw him in the crowd last night and
Saturday.'

'Did--did it seem to you that his manner was at all wild or strange?'
Lord George demanded, faltering.

'Mad,' said John, with emphatic brevity.

'And why do you think him mad, sir?' said his master, speaking in a
peevish tone. 'Don't use that word too freely. Why do you think him
mad?'

'My lord,' John Grueby answered, 'look at his dress, look at his eyes,
look at his restless way, hear him cry "No Popery!" Mad, my lord.'

'So because one man dresses unlike another,' returned his angry master,
glancing at himself; 'and happens to differ from other men in his
carriage and manner, and to advocate a great cause which the corrupt and
irreligious desert, he is to be accounted mad, is he?'

'Stark, staring, raving, roaring mad, my lord,' returned the unmoved
John.

'Do you say this to my face?' cri