Landlord.  That was all, Sir, upon my veracity.

Mr. H. For this time I will pass it over.  Your name is Pry, I think?

Landlord.  Yes, Sir, Jeremiah Pry, at your service.

Mr. H. An apt name:  you have a prying temper—­I mean some little curiosity—­a sort of inquisitiveness about you.

Landlord.  A natural thirst after knowledge you may call it, Sir.  When a boy, I was never easy but when I was thrusting up the lids of some of my schoolfellows’ boxes,—­not to steal anything, upon my honor, Sir,—­only to see what was in them; have had pens stuck in my eyes for peeping through keyholes after knowledge; could never see a cold pie with the legs dangling out at top, but my fingers were for lifting up the crust,—­just to try if it were pigeon or partridge,—­for no other reason in the world.  Surely I think my passion for nuts was owing to the pleasure of cracking the shell to get at something concealed, more than to any delight I took in eating the kernel.  In short, Sir, this appetite has grown with my growth.

Mr. H. You will certainly be hanged some day for peeping into some bureau or other just to see what is in it.

Landlord. That is my fear, Sir.  The thumps and kicks I have had for peering into parcels, and turning of letters inside out,—­just for curiosity.  The blankets I have been made to dance in for searching parish registers for old ladies’ ages,—­just for curiosity!  Once I was dragged through a horsepond, only for peeping into a closet that had glass-doors to it, while my Lady Bluegarters was undressing,—­just for curiosity!

Mr. H. A very harmless piece of curiosity, truly; and now, Mr. Pry, first have the goodness to leave that box with me, and then do me the favor to carry your curiosity so far, as to inquire if my servants are within.

Landlord. I shall, Sir.  Here, David, Jonathan,—­I think I hear them coming,—­shall make bold to leave you, Sir. [Exit.

Mr. H. Another tolerable specimen of the comforts of going anonymous!

Enter Two Footmen.

1st Footman. You speak first.

2d Footman. You had better speak.

1st Footman. You promised to begin.

Mr. H. They have something to say to me.  The rascals want their wages raised, I suppose; there is always a favor to be asked when they come smiling.  Well, poor rogues, service is but a hard bargain at the best.  I think I must not be close with them.  Well, David—­well, Jonathan.

1st Footman. We have served your honor faithfully—­

2d Footman. Hope your honor won’t take offence—­

Mr. H. The old story, I suppose—­wages?

1st Footman. That’s not it, your honor.

2d Footman. You speak.