rd took a hand. Besides
these my lady had her faithful poor Tusher, and one, two, three
gentlewomen whom Harry Esmond could recollect in his time. They could not
bear that genteel service very long; one after another tried and failed at
it. These and the housekeeper, and little Harry Esmond, had a table of
their own. Poor ladies! their life was far harder than the page's. He was
found asleep tucked up in his little bed, whilst they were sitting by her
ladyship reading her to sleep, with the _News Letter_ or the _Grand
Cyrus_. My lady used to have boxes of new plays from London, and Harry was
forbidden, under the pain of a whipping, to look into them. I am afraid he
deserved the penalty pretty often, and got it sometimes. Father Holt
applied it twice or thrice, when he caught the young scapegrace with a
delightful wicked comedy of Mr. Shadwell's or Mr. Wycherley's under his
pillow.

These, when he took any, were my lord's favourite reading. But he was
averse to much study, and, as his little page fancied, to much occupation
of any sort.

It always seemed to young Harry Esmond that my lord treated him with more
kindness when his lady was not present, and Lord Castlewood would take the
lad sometimes on his little journeys a-hunting or a-birding; he loved to
play at cards and tric-trac with him, which games the boy learned to
pleasure his lord: and was growing to like him better daily, showing a
special pleasure if Father Holt gave a good report of him, patting him on
the head, and promising that he would provide for the boy. However, in my
lady's presence, my lord showed no such marks of kindness, and affected to
treat the lad roughly, and rebuked him sharply for little faults--for which
he in a manner asked pardon of young Esmond when they were private, saying
if he did not speak roughly, she would, and his tongue was not such a bad
one as his lady's--a point whereof the boy, young as he was, was very well
assured.

Great public events were happening all this while, of which the simple
young page took little count. But one day, riding into the neighbouring
town on the step of my lady's coach, his lordship and she and Father Holt
being inside, a great mob of people came hooting and jeering round the
coach, bawling out, "The bishops for ever!" "Down with the Pope!" "No
Popery! no Popery! Jezebel, Jezebel!" so that my lord began to laugh, my
lady's eyes to roll with anger, for she was as bold as a lioness, and
feared nobo