But whether Captain Barnabas meant the stocks or the world, he did not clearly explain, and no one took the trouble to inquire.
"Sir," said Master Frank to his father, with that furtive spirit of quizzing, which he had acquired among other polite accomplishments at Eton; "sir, it is no use now considering whether the stocks should or should not have been repaired. The only question is, whom you will get to put into them."
"True," said the Squire, with much gravity.
"Yes, there it is!" said the Parson, mournfully. "If you would but learn '_quieta non movere_!'"
"Don't spout your Latin at me, Parson!" cried the Squire, angrily; "I can give you as good as you bring, any day--
'Propria quæ maribus tribuuntur mascula dicas-- As in presenti, perfectum format in avi.'
There," added the Squire, turning triumphantly toward his Harry, who looked with great admiration at this unprecedented burst of learning on the part of Mr. Hazeldean; "there, two can play at that game! And now that we have all seen the stocks, we may as well go home, and drink tea. Will you come up and play a rubber, Dale? No! hang it, man, I've not offended you--you know my ways."
"That I do, and they are among the things I would not have altered," cried the Parson, holding out his hand cheerfully. The Squire gave it a hearty shake, and Mrs. Hazeldean hastened to do the same. "Do come; I am afraid we've been very rude; we are sad blunt folks. Do come; that's a dear good man; and of course poor Mrs. Dale too." Mrs. Hazeldean's favorite epithet for Mrs. Dale was _poor_, and that for reasons to be explained hereafter.
"I fear my wife has got one of her bad headaches, but I will give her your kind message, and at all events you may depend upon me."
"That's right," cried the Squire, "in half-an-hour, eh? How d'ye do, my little man?" as Lenny Fairfield, on his way home from some errand in the village, drew aside and pulled off his hat with both hands. "Stop--you see those stocks--eh? Tell all the bad little boys in the parish to take care how they get into them--a sad disgrace--you'll never be in such a quandary!"
"That at least I will answer for," said the Parson.
"And I too," added Mrs. Hazeldean, patting the boy's curly head. "Tell your mother I shall come and have a good chat with her to-morrow evening."