apple; and if it don't ate so soft as ever was scald cream, never you
call me Thomas Burman."

"Humph!" said Jack. "And that's their dinner. Well, some are born with a
silver spoon in their mouth."

"Some be born with roast beef in their mouths, and plum-pudding in
their pocket to take away the taste o' mun; and that's better than empty
spunes, eh?"

"For them that get it," said Jack. "But for them that don't--" And with
a sigh he returned to his small ale, and then lingered in and out of the
inn, watching the dinner as it went into the best room, where the guests
were assembled.

And as he lounged there, Amyas went in, and saw him, and held out his
hand, and said--

"Hillo, Jack! how goes the world? How you've grown!" and passed
on;--what had Jack Brimblecombe to do with Rose Salterne?

So Jack lingered on, hovering around the fragrant smell like a fly round
a honey-pot, till he found himself invisibly attracted, and as it were
led by the nose out of the passage into the adjoining room, and to that
side of the room where there was a door; and once there he could not
help hearing what passed inside; till Rose Salterne's name fell on his
ear. So, as it was ordained, he was taken in the fact. And now behold
him brought in red-hand to judgment, not without a kick or two from
the wrathful foot of Amyas Leigh. Whereat there fell on him a storm of
abuse, which, for the honor of that gallant company, I shall not give in
detail; but which abuse, strange to say, seemed to have no effect on the
impenitent and unabashed Jack, who, as soon as he could get his breath,
made answer fiercely, amid much puffing and blowing.

"What business have I here? As much as any of you. If you had asked me
in, I would have come: but as you didn't, I came without asking."

"You shameless rascal!" said Cary. "Come if you were asked, where there
was good wine? I'll warrant you for that!"

"Why," said Amyas, "no lad ever had a cake at school but he would
dog him up one street and down another all day for the crumbs, the
trencher-scraping spaniel!"

"Patience, masters!" said Frank. "That Jack's is somewhat of a gnathonic
and parasitic soul, or stomach, all Bideford apple-women know; but I
suspect more than Deus Venter has brought him hither."

"Deus eavesdropping, then. We shall have the whole story over the town
by to-morrow," said another; beginning at that thought to feel somewhat
ashamed of his late enthusiasm.

"Ah, Mr. Frank! You