"Dear Jonathan," she whispered feebly, "save me from Simon Jennings."

In an instant, Jonathan's grasp was tightly involved in the bailiff's
stiff white neckcloth. And Grace, with much maidenly reserve, told her
lover all she dared to utter of that base bartering for her father's
life.

"Come straight along with me, you villain, straight to the master!" And
the sturdy Jonathan, administering all the remainder of the way (a
quarter of a mile of avenue made part of it) innumerable kickings and
cuffings, hauled the half-mummied bailiff into the servants' hall.

"Now then, straight before the master! John Page, be so good as to knock
at the dining-room door, and ask master very respectfully if his honour
will be good enough to suffer me to speak to him."




CHAPTER XLII.

THE DISMISSAL.


IT was after dinner. Sir John and his friends had somehow been
less jovial than usual; they were absolutely dull enough to be talking
politics. So, when the boy of many buttons tapped at the door, and
meekly brought in Jonathan's message, recounting also how he had got Mr.
Jennings in tow for some inexplicable crime, the strangeness of the
affair was a very welcome incident: both host and guests hailed it an