She regarded him with eyes in which resentment flamed sullenly.
"Can I feed six on the shilling a week he gives me—rent and all?"
Ernie went out and brought back the money. She took it without a word, and wrapping it up in a little bit of paper, left it at the Manor-house.
Mrs. Trupp, who was holding a council with Bess and Bobby Chislehurst, unwrapped the packet and showed the money.
"She's put something up the spout," said the sage Bobby.
The three talked the situation over. There was only one thing to be done. Somebody must go round to Mr. Pigott and intercede for Ernie. Bobby was selected.
"You'll get him round if anybody can," Bess told her colleague encouragingly.
Bobby, shaking a dubious head, went. Mr. Pigott, like everybody else in Old Town, was devoted to the young curate; but he presented a firm face now to the other's entreaties.
"Every chance I've given him." he said, and scolded and growled as he paced to and fro in the little room looking across Victoria Drive on to the allotments. "He's a lost soul, is Ernie Caspar. That's my view, if you care for it."
Bobby retreated, not without hope, and bustled round to Ruth.