“Tut, tut! there is a time to spend! Whether there is a time to save or not, while there is the least need anywhere of spending, I really do not know! There’s the fly now!” exclaimed the curate, at the sound of wheels, suddenly breaking off in his discourse and going to the door.
“Well, Nahum, you are on time, I see!” said Mr. Campbell, speaking cheerfully to some one in the outer darkness.
“Ay, bound to be, sir, when your reverence had bespoken the kerridge,” answered a buoyant voice from the shades.
“Come, my dear! But, Nahum, perhaps the mule wants food and water?”
“Not she, sir! She had her oats and her water and her mug of ale! You’d no believe, sir, how that lass loves ale! So, with your leave, I’ll e’en give her another mug of that same, whiles she rests five minutes. No longer, your reverence. No longer, sir.”
“Quite right. Let us know when you are ready.”
The curate sat down by his daughter.
In something less than five minutes the voice of the hostler was heard, calling:
“All right now, sir. Miss Nancy and me is at your service, sir.”
“Miss Nancy?” inquired Jennie as she arose and took her father’s arm.