onely inn about a mile and a half from the hall,
and, the farmer not responding to his nephew's kind invitation to come in
and treat him, Festus entered alone. He was dusty, draggled, and weary,
and he remained at the tavern long. The trumpet-major, in the meantime,
having searched the roads in vain, heard in the course of the evening of
the yeoman's arrival at this place, and that he would probably be found
there still. He accordingly approached the door, reaching it just as the
dusk of evening changed to darkness.

There was no light in the passage, but John pushed on at hazard, inquired
for Derriman, and was told that he would be found in the back parlour
alone. When Loveday first entered the apartment he was unable to see
anything, but following the guidance of a vigorous snoring, he came to
the settle, upon which Festus lay asleep, his position being faintly
signified by the shine of his buttons and other parts of his uniform.
John laid his hand upon the reclining figure and shook him, and by
degrees Derriman stopped his snore and sat up.

'Who are you?' he said, in the accents of a man who has been drinking
hard. 'Is it you, dear Anne? Let me kiss you; yes, I will.'

'Shut your mouth, you pitiful blockhead; I'll teach you genteeler manners
than to persecute a young woman in that way!' and taking Festus by the
ear, he gave it a good pull. Festus broke out with an oath, and struck a
vague blow in the air with his fist; whereupon the trumpet-major dealt
him a box on the right ear, and a similar one on the left to artistically
balance the first. Festus jumped up and used his fists wildly, but
without any definite result.

'Want to fight, do ye, eh?' said John. 'Nonsense! you can't fight, you
great baby, and never could. You are only fit to be smacked!' and he
dealt Festus a specimen of the same on the cheek with the palm of his
hand.

'No, sir, no! O, you are Loveday, the young man she's going to be
married to, I suppose? Dash me, I didn't want to hurt her, sir.'

'Yes, my name is Loveday; and you'll know where to find me, since we
can't finish this to-night. Pistols or swords, whichever you like, my
boy. Take that, and that, so that you may not forget to call upon me!'
and again he smacked the yeoman's ears and cheeks. 'Do you know what it
is for, eh?'

'No, Mr. Loveday, sir--yes, I mean, I do.'

'What is it for, then? I shall keep smacking until you tell me. Gad! if
you weren't drunk, I'd h