'He'll be at home in less than an hour; he's only gone to make Mrs Dawson's will—Mrs. Dawson, of Collyton—she's not expected to get better.'
Probably the clerk of an older-established attorney would not have given so many particulars as to the nature of his master's employment; but, as it happened it was of no consequence, the unnecessary information made no impression on Philip's mind; he thought the matter over and then said—
'I'll be back in an hour, then. It's gone a quarter to four; I'll be back before five, tell Mr. Dawson.'
He turned on his heel and went back to the High Street as fast as he could, with a far more prompt and decided step than before. He hastened through the streets, emptied by the bad weather, to the principal inn of the town, the George—the sign of which was fastened to a piece of wood stretched across the narrow street; and going up to the bar with some timidity (for the inn was frequented by the gentry of Monkshaven and the neighbourhood, and was considered as a touch above such customers as Philip), he asked if he could have a tax-cart made ready in a quarter of an hour, and sent up to the door of his shop.
'To be sure he could; how far was it to go?'
Philip hesitated before he replied—
'Up the Knotting Lane, to the stile leading down to Haytersbank Farm; they'll have to wait there for some as are coming.'
'They must not wait long such an evening as this; standing in such rain and wind as there'll be up there, is enough to kill a horse.'
'They shan't wait long,' said Philip, decisively: 'in a quarter of an hour, mind.'
He now went back to the shop, beating against the storm, which was increasing as the tide came in and the night hours approached.