But we must now go back for a short space.

While Mistress Nutter and Nicholas were seated at a table examining a plan of the Rough Lee estates, the latter was greatly astonished to see the door open and give admittance to Master Potts, who he fancied snugly lying between a couple of blankets, at the Dragon.  The attorney was clad in a riding-dress, which he had exchanged for his wet habiliments, and was accompanied by Sir Ralph Assheton and Master Roger Nowell.  On seeing Nicholas, he instantly stepped up to him.

“Aha! squire,” he cried, “you did not expect to see me again so soon, eh!  A pottle of hot sack put my blood into circulation, and having, luckily, a change of raiment in my valise, I am all right again.  Not so easily got rid of, you see!”

“So it appears,” replied Nicholas, laughing.

“We have a trifling account to settle together, sir,” said the attorney, putting on a serious look.

“Whenever you please, sir,” replied Nicholas, good-humouredly, tapping the hilt of his sword.

“Not in that way,” cried Potts, darting quickly back.  “I never fight with those weapons—­never.  Our dispute must be settled in a court of law, sir—­in a court of law.  You understand, Master Nicholas?”

“There is a shrewd maxim, Master Potts, that he who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client,” observed Nicholas, drily.  “Would it not be better to stick to the defence of others, rather than practise in your own behalf?”

“You have expressed my opinion, Master Nicholas,” observed Roger Nowell; “and I hope Master Potts will not commence any action on his own account till he has finished my business.”

“Assuredly not, sir, since you desire it,” replied the attorney, obsequiously.  “But my motives must not be mistaken.  I have a clear case of assault and battery against Master Nicholas Assheton, or I may proceed against him criminally for an attempt on my life.”

“Have you given him no provocation, sir?” demanded Sir Ralph, sternly.

“No provocation can justify the treatment I have experienced, Sir Ralph,” replied Potts.  “However, to show I am a man of peace, and harbour no resentment, however just grounds I may have for such a feeling, I am willing to make up the matter with Master Nicholas, provided—­”

“He offers you a handsome consideration, eh?” said the squire.

“Provided he offers me a handsome apology—­such as a gentleman may accept,” rejoined Potts, consequentially.

“And which he will not refuse, I am sure,” said Sir Ralph, glancing at his cousin.

“I should certainly be sorry to have drowned you,” said the squire—­“very sorry.”

“Enough—­enough—­I am content,” cried Potts, holding out his hand, which Nicholas grasped with an energy that brought tears into the little man’s eyes.

“I am glad the matter is amicably adjusted,” observed Roger Nowell, “for I suspect both parties have been to blame.  And I must now request you, Master Potts, to forego your search, and inquiries after witches, till such time as you have settled this question of the boundary line for me.  One matter at a time, my good sir.”