“Oh!” said Mr Piper once more, and he took out his pocket-book at the same time, but made no attempt to go. He slowly took a pencil from a sheath at the side, and examined its point before thrusting it in again, as if trying very hard to make sure that it was a fit.
Hazel was in agony, and would have given anything to be alone, but Mr Piper went on testing the depth of his pencil-sheath in the leather pocket-book, and drawing the pencil out again.
“You see, it always has been paid upon the morning I said I’d call. I’ve got Mr Chute’s money in here.”
He slapped his breeches-pocket twice in a very emphatic manner, and looked at Hazel the while, as if asking her to deny it if she dared.
“I—I was taken rather by surprise,” faltered Hazel.
“Nay, nay,” said the churchwarden; “I gave you a day’s notice.”
“Yes,” said Hazel, “but I was not ready. I will send or bring the amount in a few days, Mr Piper.”
“I wanted to have made up my accounts,” he said, gazing still at his pencil and pocket-book in a meditative way. “You see, it puts me out, being a business-man. I have all this churchwarden work to do, and don’t get nothing by it, and it puts me wrong when things go contrary like, and I can’t get in the accounts. Now, your pence, for instance—I ought to have had them a month ago.”
“I am very sorry, sir, but I was not aware when they ought to be paid in.”
“You see, I make up all these parish things regular like, and if I can’t get the money in it throws me all out.”