has four times the butcher's meat
that goes up to Fairoaks, with all their fine airs.

Etc. etc. etc.: let the reader fill up these details according to his
liking and experience of village scandal. They will suffice to show
how it was that a good woman occupied solely in doing her duty to her
neighbour and her children, and an honest, brave lad, impetuous, and
full of good, and wishing well to every mortal alive found enemies and
detractors amongst people to whom they were superior, and to whom they
had never done anything like harm. The Clavering curs were yelping all
round the house of Fairoaks, and delighted to pull Pen down.

Doctor Portman and Smirke were both cautious of informing the widow of
the constant outbreak of calumny which was pursuing poor Pen, though
Glanders, who was a friend of the house, kept him au courant. It may be
imagined what his indignation was: was there any man in the village
whom he could call to account? Presently some wags began to chalk
up 'Fotheringay for ever!' and other sarcastic allusions to late
transactions, at Fairoaks' gate. Another brought a large playbill from
Chatteris, and wafered it there one night. On one occasion Pen, riding
through the Lower Town, fancied he heard the Factory boys jeer him; and
finally going through the Doctor's gate into the churchyard, where some
of Wapshot's boys were lounging, the biggest of them, a young gentleman
about twenty years of age, son of a neighbouring small Squire, who lived
in the doubtful capacity of parlour-boarder with Mr. Wapshot, flung
himself into a theatrical attitude near a newly-made grave, and began
repeating Hamlet's verses over Ophelia, with a hideous leer at Pen.
The young fellow was so enraged that he rushed at Hobnell Major with a
shriek very much resembling an oath, cut him furiously across the face
with the riding-whip which he carried, flung it away, calling upon the
cowardly villain to defend himself, and in another minute knocked the
bewildered young ruffian into the grave which was just waiting for a
different lodger.

Then with his fists clenched, and his face quivering with passion and
indignation, he roared out to Mr. Hobnell's gaping companions, to know
if any of the blackguards would come on? But they held back with a
growl, and retreated as Doctor Portman came up to his wicket, and Mr.
Hobnell, with his nose and lip bleeding piteously, emerged from the
grave.

Pen, looking death and defiance at the lads, w