"How dare you have the premeditated insurance to arrogate us into your pig-sty, you ragamuffin." 

 "Don't worrit, my dear," interposed Mrs. Bulworthy, in an authoritative tone. "It's our dooty, now, as ladies and gentlemen, to inquire into the condition of the poor, and give them wholesome advice. Here, my dear," she continued, taking sundry tracts from her capacious pocket, "read these comfortable pages, and see what a state of awful responsibility you are in." 

 "Bedad, that's all the poor people is likely to get from such visitors as you," said Dan. 

 "And now, sir," said Bulworthy, with an imposing frown, "what interrogational imperence do you want to address to me, that you have the owdaciousness to drag me here?" 

 Dan simply took down a broken piece of slate, and holding it up before the Squire's eyes, "a thriflin' account, sir," said he; "for heel-piecin' your honor's honorable tops, and maybe they don't show off an iligant lump of a leg, this fine spring mornin'," vainly hoping that the unmitigated flattery would mitigate the wrath of the potent Squire. 

 "And was it for this, you—you illiterate colossus of brass, that you detained me in my preambulations." 

 "Indeed, sir," timidly interposed Peggy, "I hope that you'll forgive him. It isn't his fault entirely, your honor. It's all on account of a gintleman that he axed for to take a bit of dinner wid him." 

 "What!" screamed Mrs. Bulworthy, with her sanctimonious eyes elevated to the true Pharisaic standard; "I never heard of such wretched depravity. Dinner! do such wretched creatures deal in so miserable an extravagance? I tremble for your lost condition. Read this;" and she fumbled in her pocket for another comforting document, which Peggy courtesied humbly as she received; "read this, and learn to conquer your unworthy appetites for earthly things." The Squiress was a fine example of those theoretic Lady Bountifuls, whose province it is to feed poverty with such like unsatisfactory viands. 

 "I'll make you wait for your shillin', you scoundrel," said the irate Squire. 

 "And serve him right, too," echoed his worthy spouse. 

 "Then we'll have to wait for our dinner," suggested Dan. 

 "And what's that to us, you reprobate?" 

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