Of course Doctor Jessop asks whom he
likes to his house--and, by George! I'm always civil to everybody--but
really, in spite of my lady's likings, I can't well invite you to my
table!"

"Nor could I humiliate myself by accepting any such invitation."

He said the words distinctly, so that the whole circle might have
heard, and was turning away, when Mr. Brithwood fired up--as an angry
man does in a losing game.

"Humiliate yourself! What do you mean, sir? Wouldn't you be only too
thankful to crawl into the houses of your betters, any how, by hook or
by crook? Ha! ha! I know you would. It's always the way with you
common folk, you rioters, you revolutionists. By the Lord! I wish you
were all hanged."

The young blood rose fiercely in John's cheek, but he restrained
himself. "Sir, I am neither a rioter nor a revolutionist."

"But you are a tradesman? You used to drive Fletcher's cart of skins."

"I did."

"And are you not--I remember you now--the very lad, the tanner's lad,
that once pulled us ashore from the eger--Cousin March and me?"

I heard a quick exclamation beside me, and saw Ursula listening
intently--I had not noticed how intently till now. Her eyes were fixed
on John, waiting for his answer. It came.

"Your memory is correct; I was that lad."

"Thank'ee for it too. Lord! what a jolly life I should have missed!
You got no reward, though. You threw away the guinea I offered you;
come, I'll make it twenty guineas to-morrow."

The insult was too much. "Sir, you forget that whatever we may have
been, to-night we meet as equals."

"Equals!"

"As guests in the same house--most certainly for the time being,
equals."

Richard Brithwood stared, literally dumb with fury. The standers-by
were dumb too, though such fracas were then not uncommon even in
drawing-rooms, and in women's presence, especially with men of Mr.
Brithwood's stamp. His wife seemed quite used to it. She merely
shrugged her shoulders and hummed a note or two of "Ca ira." It
irritated the husband beyond all bounds.

"Hold your tongue, my lady. What, because a 'prentice-lad once saved
my life, and you choose to patronise him as you do many another
vagabond, with your cursed liberty and equality, am I to have him at my
table, and treat him as a gentleman? By ----, madam, never!"

He spoke savagely, and loud. John was silent; he had locked his hands
together convulsively; but it was easy to see that his blood was at