grown, and as big as either of us (Vindex stood five feet four in his
high-heeled shoes), and smote him clean over the quay into the mud,
because he said that there was a prettier maid in Barnstaple (your
worship will forgive my speaking of such toys, to which my fidelity
compels me) than ever Bideford could show; and then offered to do the
same to any man who dare say that Mistress Rose Salterne, his worship
the mayor's daughter, was not the fairest lass in all Devon."

"Eh? Say that over again, my good sir," quoth Sir Richard, who had thus
arrived, as we have seen, at the second count of the indictment. "I say,
good sir, whence dost thou hear all these pretty stories?"

"My son Jack, Sir Richard, my son Jack, ingenui vultus puer."

"But not, it seems, ingenui pudoris. Tell thee what, Mr. Schoolmaster,
no wonder if thy son gets put on the fire, if thou employ him as a
tale-bearer. But that is the way of all pedagogues and their sons,
by which they train the lads up eavesdroppers and favor-curriers, and
prepare them--sirrah, do you hear?--for a much more lasting and hotter
fire than that which has scorched thy son Jack's nether-tackle. Do you
mark me, sir?"

The poor pedagogue, thus cunningly caught in his own trap, stood
trembling before his patron, who, as hereditary head of the Bridge
Trust, which endowed the school and the rest of the Bideford charities,
could, by a turn of his finger, sweep him forth with the besom
of destruction; and he gasped with terror as Sir Richard went
on--"Therefore, mind you, Sir Schoolmaster, unless you shall promise me
never to hint word of what has passed between us two, and that neither
you nor yours shall henceforth carry tales of my godson, or speak his