Master Popplewell had made up his mind and his wife's, long ago, and confirmed it in the one-horse shay, while Mary was riding Lord Keppel in the rear; and the mind of the tanner was as tough as good oak bark.

His premises had been intruded upon--the property which he had bought with his own money saved by years of honest trade, his private garden, his ornamental bower, his wife's own pleasure-plot, at a sacred moment invaded, trampled, and outraged by a scurvy preventive-man and his low crew.

The first thing he had done to the prostrate Carroway was to lay hold of him by the collar, and shake his fist at him and demand his warrant--a magistrate's warrant, or from the crown itself.

The poor lieutenant having none to show, "Then I will have the law of you, Sir," the tanner shouted; "if it costs me two hundred and fifty pounds.

I am known for a man, Sir, who sticks to his word; and my attorney is a genuine bulldog." This had frightened Carroway more than fifty broadsides.