“Yes, yes; she is not without a few bull-dogs, to bark in defence of her own rights, and to say a word in support of his Majesty’s honour, too; God bless him!  Judy! you Jude!” he shouted, at the top of his voice, to a negro girl, who was gathering kindling-wood among the chips of a ship-yard, “scamper over to neighbour Homespun’s, and rattle away at his bed-room windows:  the man has overslept himself it is not common to hear seven o’clock strike, and the thirsty tailor not appear for his bitters.”

A short cessation took place in the dialogue, while the wench was executing her master’s orders.  The summons produced no other effect than to draw a shrill reply from Desire, whose voice penetrated, through the thin board coverings of the little dwelling as readily as sound would be conveyed through a sieve.  In another moment a window was opened, and the worthy housewife thrust her disturbed visage into the fresh air of the morning.

“What next! what next!” demanded the offended and, as she was fain to believe, neglected wife, under the impression that it was her truant husband, making his tardy return to his domestic allegiance, who had thus presumed to disturb her slumbers.  “Is it not enough that you have eloped from my bed and board, for a long night, but you must dare to break in on the natural rest of a whole family, seven blessed children, without counting their mother!  O Hector!  Hector! an example are you getting to be to the young and giddy, and a warning will you yet prove to the unthoughtful!”

“Bring hither the black book,” said the publican to his wife, who had been drawn to a window by the lamentations of Desire; “I think the woman said something about starting on a journey between two days; and, if such has been the philosophy of the good-man, it behoves all honest people to look into their accounts.  Ay, as I live, Keziah, you have let the limping beggar get seventeen and sixpence into arrears, and that for such trifles as morning-drams and night-caps!”

“You are wrathy, friend, without reason; the man has made a garment for the boy at school, and found the”—­

“Hush, good woman,” interrupted her husband returning the book, and making a sign for her to retire; “I dare say it will all come round in proper Time, and the less noise we make about the backslidings of a neighbour, the less will be said of our own transgressions.  A worthy and hard-working mechanic, sir,” he continued, addressing the stranger “but a man who could never get the sun to shine in at his windows, though, Heaven knows, the glass is none too thick for such a blessing.”

“And do you imagine on evidence as slight as this we have seen, that such a man has actually absconded?”

“Why, it is a calamity that has befallen his betters!” returned the publican, interlocking his fingers across the rotundity of his person, with an air of grave consideration.  “We inn-keepers—­who live, as it were, in plain sight of every man’s secrets; for it is after a visit to us that one is apt truly to open his heart—­should know something of the affairs of a neighbourhood.  If the good-man Homespun could smooth down the temper of his companion as easily as he lays a seam into its place, the thing might not occur, but——­Do you drink this morning, sir?”