Now Parley knew so little of the world, that he actually concluded all robbers must have an ugly look, which should frighten you at once; and coarse, brutal manners, which would, at first sight, show they were enemies.  He thought, like a poor ignorant fellow as he was, that this mild, specious person could never be one of the band.  Flatterwell accosted Parley with the utmost civility, which put him quite off his guard; for Parley had no notion that he could be an enemy who was so soft and civil.  For an open foe he would have been prepared.  Parley, however, after a little discourse, drew this conclusion, that either Mr. Flatterwell could not be one of the gang, or if he was, the robbers themselves could not be such monsters as his master had described, and therefore it was a folly to be afraid of them.

Flatterwell began, like a true adept in his art, by lulling all Parley’s suspicions asleep, and instead of openly abusing his master, which would have opened Parley’s eyes at once, he pretended rather to commend him in a general way, as a person who meant well himself, but was too apt to suspect others.  To this Parley assented.  The other then ventured to hint by degrees, that though the gentleman might be a good master in the main, yet he must say he was a little strict, and a little stingy, and not a little censorious.  That he was blamed by the gentlemen in the wilderness for shutting his house against good company, and his servants were laughed at by people of spirit for submitting to the gloomy life of the castle, and the insipid pleasures of the garden, instead of ranging in the wilderness at large.

“It is true enough,” said Parley, who was generally of the opinion of the person he was talking with; “my master is rather harsh and close.  But, to own the truth, all the barring, and locking, and bolting, is to keep out a set of gentlemen who he assures us are robbers, and who are waiting for an opportunity to destroy us.  I hope no offence, sir, but by your livery I suspect you, sir, are one of the gang he is so much afraid of.”

FLATTERWELL.  “Afraid of me! impossible, dear Mr. Parley.  You see I do not look like an enemy.  I am unarmed; what harm can a plain man like me do?”

PARLEY.  “Why, that is true enough.  Yet my master says, that if we were once to let you into the house, we should be ruined, soul and body.”

FLATTERWELL.  “I am sorry, Mr. Parley, that so sensible a man as you are so deceived.  This is mere prejudice.  He knows we are cheerful, entertaining people; foes to gloom and superstition; and therefore, he is so morose, he will not let you get acquainted with us.”

PARLEY.  “Well, he says you are a band of thieves, gamblers, murderers, drunkards, and atheists.”

FLATTERWELL.  “Don’t believe him:  the worst we should do, perhaps, is, we might drink a friendly glass with you to your master’s health, or play an innocent game at cards just to keep you awake, or sing a cheerful song with the maids; now is there any harm in all this?”