"I can afford it. Why, if I had my own this night I should be worth sixty thousand pounds."
"Some one has cheated you, Master Basil?"
"More than cheated me; has done me the foulest wrong. You shall hear all by-and-by. But I still have money I can call my own. The robber, unknown to himself, is making restitution by driblets. Here you are, Corrie." He had counted out thirty pounds, which he now pushed over to Corrie across the table. Corrie counted it, but did not take it up.
"If this is for the mare, Master Basil, it's too much."
"Too little, you mean."
"Too much by twenty pounds. The old mare might have fetched a ten pound note in a sale-yard, and more likely than not would have been knocked down for a fiver. So I'll take ten, if you don't mind, Master Basil, and we'll cry quits on that account. I wouldn't take that if my pockets weren't empty."
No persuasion on Basil's part could induce Old Corrie to accept more than the ten pounds, and the young man was fain to yield.
"You were quite in earnest," said Old Corrie, "when you offered to give me a shakedown for the night?"
"I've a mind to be angry with you," responded Basil, "for asking the question. Let us settle matters between us once and for all, Corrie. You had a good opinion of me once."
"I had, Master Basil, and would have done much to serve you."