"You'll oblige me, sir," said the verger, "if you would never repeat
those verses, sir, nor mention, in any company, the affair of the king of
the gipsies."

"I will oblige you," replied Mr. Marshal, "if you will oblige me. Will
you tell me honestly whether, now that you find this Mr. O'Neill is
neither a dog-killer nor a puller-down of bark-ricks, you feel that you
could forgive him for being an Irishman, if the mystery, as you call it,
of the hole under the cathedral was cleared up?"

"But that is not cleared up, I say, sir," cried Mr. Hill, striking his
walking-stick forcibly upon the ground with both his hands. "As to the
matter of his being an Irishman, I have nothing to say to it; I am not
saying anything about that, for I know we all are born where it pleases
God, and an Irishman may be as good as another. I know that much, Mr.
Marshal, and I am not one of those illiberal-minded, ignorant people that
cannot abide a man that was not born in England. Ireland is now in his
majesty's dominions. I know very well, Mr. Marshal; and I have no manner
of doubt, as I said before, that an Irishman born may be as good, almost,
as an Englishman born."

"I am glad," said Mr. Marshal, "to hear you speak--almost as reasonably
as an Englishman born and every man ought to speak; and I am convinced
that you have too much English hospitality to persecute an inoffensive
stranger, who comes amongst us trusting to our justice and good nature."

"I would not persecute a stranger, God forbid!" replied the verger, "if
he was, as you say, inoffensive."