‘My dear! with the groundsel?’

‘And the knitting-needles!’

On rushed the narration, unheeding trifles.  ’There was the array:  Mr. Calcott in the chair, and old Freeman, and Captain Shaw, and fat Sir Gilbert, and all the rest, met to condemn this wretched widow’s son for washing his feet in a gutter!’

‘Pray what said the indictment?’ asked Mrs. Ponsonby.

’Oh, that he had killed an infant trout of the value of three farthings!  Three giant keepers made oath to it, but I had his own mother’s word that he was washing his feet!’

No one could help laughing, but Fitzjocelyn was far past perceiving any such thing.  ’Urge what I would, they fined him.  I talked to old Brewster!  I appealed to his generosity, if there be room for generosity about a trout no bigger than a gudgeon!  I talked to Mr. Calcott, who, I thought, had more sense, but Justice Shallow would have been more practicable!  No one took a rational view but Ramsbotham of the factory, a very sensible man, with excellent feeling.  When it is recorded in history, who will believe that seven moral, well-meaning men agreed in condemning a poor lad of fifteen to a fine of five shillings, costs three-and-sixpence—­a sum he could no more pay than I the National Debt, and with the alternative of three months’ imprisonment, branding and contaminating for life, and destroying all self-respect?  I paid the fine, so there is one act of destruction the less on the heads of the English squirearchy.’

‘Act of destruction!’

’The worst destruction is to blast a man’s character because the love of adventure is strong within him—!’

He was at this point when Lord Ormersfield entered, and after his daily civil ceremonious inquiries of the ladies whether they had walked or driven out, he turned to his son, saying, ’I met Mr. Calcott just now, and heard from him that he had been sorry to convict a person in whom you took interest, a lad from Marksedge.  What did you know of him?’

‘I was prompted by common justice and humanity,’ said Louis.  ’My protection was claimed for the poor boy, as the son of an old servant of ours.’

’Indeed!  I think you must have been imposed on.  Mr. Calcott spoke of the family as notorious poachers.’

’Find a poor fellow on the wrong side of a hedge, and not a squire but will swear that he is a hardened ruffian!’

‘Usually with reason,’ said the Earl.  ’Pray when did this person’s parents allege that they had been in my service?’

’It was his mother.  Her name was Blackett, and she left us on her marriage with one of the Hodgekins.’

Lord Ormersfield rang the bell, and Frampton, the butler and confidential servant, formed on his own model, made his appearance.

’Do you know whether a woman of the name of Blackett ever lived in service here?’

‘Not that I am aware of, my Lord.  I will ascertain the fact.’