The baker retired, muttering, "He wants to get 'em out of Highfield House vor certain. But that don't matter to me so long as I get my profit."
George went for a long walk to refresh himself, not bothering about his popularity any longer, as he was contemplating an act which would make future residence in Highfield impossible; but he met the Wallower in Wealth, who demanded his musical box; and the Dumpy Philosopher, who put searching questions concerning the railway and the amount of compensation for wounded feelings he was likely to receive; and the Yellow Leaf, who had just lost his wife and was going courting. Returning, during the late afternoon, he stopped at his own house, knocked, but received no answer from that side of the street. Bessie looked out from the cottage window opposite and invited him to step in that direction.
"Have ye heard the news, Mr. George?" she whispered excitedly. "Master ha' given Robert three pounds and a week."
"Three pounds!" cried George fiercely.
"Us can't make any one believe it. Three solid sovereigns, sir! Robert ha' got teethache through biting 'em."
"I am not surprised," said George. "Dyer has been left a lot of money—he told me yesterday. An uncle, who went to New Zealand years ago, has just died and left him thousands. He can buy up the whole village if he wants to."
"Master never told Robert he'd been left money. He gave 'en the sovereigns and said 'twas a reward vor the way Robert had worked. Couldn't spare 'em, he said, but his conscience worried him. They do say the Dyers ha' never given away anything avore 'cept the water what they boiled their cabbage in."
"When are you off?"
"First thing tomorrow. We'm going to my home, so it won't cost nothing 'cept the railway. I'm getting our things together now."
"Where's Robert?"