"Twelve-seventeen-six."
The Rector sighed. "It is extremely awkward for me to pay you just now. Still, no doubt you find it no less awkward to wait: and since you have come all the way from Lincoln to collect it—"
"Steady a bit," Mr. Wright interrupted; "I never said that. I said
I'd come direct from Lincoln."
Mr. Wesley looked puzzled. "Pardon me, is not that the same thing?"
"No, it ain't. I'd be glad enough of my little bit of money to be sure: but there's more things than money in this world, Mr. Wesley."
"So I have sometimes endeavoured to teach."
"There's more things than money," repeated Mr. Wright, not to be denied: for it struck him as a really fine utterance, with a touch of the epigrammatic too, of which he had not believed himself capable. In the stir of his feelings he was conscious of an unfamiliar loftiness, and conscious also that it did him credit. He paused and added, "There's darters, for instance."
"Daughters?" Mr. Wesley opened his eyes wide.
"Darters." Mr. Wright nodded his head slowly and took a step nearer to the table. "Has Missy come back?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"If you mean my daughter Mehetabel—yes, she has returned."