Mr. and Mrs. Chester exchanged glances, which Dorothy did not see. She had escaped the obnoxious presence of this man by simply going to bed, meaning to get up again, as soon as he should depart, and bid her parents good-night. Then said the ex-postman, after this brief telegraphing of opinions:
"Mr. Sands has guessed correctly. We are in need of ready money—to get things into running order; but the property is my wife's and, like your friend, I have the fullest confidence in her business ability. She will do as she thinks best."
Now what a cruel thing is jealousy! It had embittered the honest heart of Jim Barlow, earlier in the day, and now attacked the tender one of Martha Chester. It was quite true—they did need money. True, also, that they had expected to raise it by a mortgage on Skyrie, at present free and clear. They knew that this money would be forthcoming from the mistress of Deerhurst, simply upon application, and upon the most favorable terms. She had already delicately hinted at the matter, and had her visit to the cottage been made that morning, as she intended, it would doubtless have been settled.
But Martha Chester disliked to be beholden to the old gentlewoman who "made so much of Dorothy" and who, the mother fancied, was superseding herself in the child's heart. It had become a habit of Dorothy's to quote Mrs. Cecil as a paragon of all the virtues, and the child's ambition was to form her own manners and opinions upon her "fairy godmother's."
Now offered a chance for independence which Mrs. Chester eagerly seized, without protest from her husband, though inwardly he disapproved putting themselves in the power of a stranger when there stood ready to take his place a tried, true friend.
"Shall you see Mr. Sands again, to-night?" she asked.
"No, ma'am. I'm due to deliver an oration in the 'Sons of Freedom' Hall, Upper Village, eight o'clock sharp, tickets twenty-five cents. Oliver directed me to say that if you would send your little daughter to Heartsease, his place, to-morrow morning he would make it his pleasure to call and arrange everything. He's a sort of lawyer, himself. And, oh yes! If you should need anything in the way of feed or fodder he is always ready to supply his customers, at the ruling prices and with dispatch.
"Which brings me, ma'am and sir, to the subject of wages between ourselves; and if it's handy, to the payment for my services in erecting a pig-pen and repairing a cow-manger. Let me see. Two hours, at a dollar an hour—Two dollars, I make it. Do you find me right?"
Well! Pa Babcock might look like a simpleton, but he could use his queer voice to his own advantage!
John Chester shrugged his shoulders and Martha replied with considerable crispness: