“Oh, when did you buy it, sir?”
Mr. Rich snatched the book a little pettishly, and gave it to Meadows.
“You make the calculation,” said he; “the figures are all there. Come to me when you have made it.”
The land had been bought twenty-seven years and some months ago. Mr. Meadows made the calculation in a turn of the hand and announced it. Rich rang a hand bell. Another snuffy figure with a stoop and a bald head and a pen came through a curtain.
“Jones, verify that calculation.”
“Penny, halfpenny, twopence, penny, halfpenny, twopence. Mum, mum! Halfpenny wrong, sir.”
“There is a halfpenny wrong!” cried Mr. Rich to Meadows, with a most injured air.
“There is, sir,” said Meadows, “but it is on the right side for you. I thought I would make it even money against myself.”
“There are only two ways, wrong and right,” was the reply. “Jones, make it right. There, that is the price for the next half hour; after business hours to-day add a day's interest; and, Jones—if he does not buy, write your calculation into the book with date—save time, next customer comes for it.”
“You need not trouble, Mr. Jones,” said Meadows. “I take the land. Here is two hundred and fifty pounds—that is rather more than half the purchase-money.