'They parsons be slow coaches—awful slow. I'll have a good bit to wait, I s'pose. I should be three miles away and more by this time—drat it!' He was eyeing the legging of the foot which he held up while he spoke, as if calculating how far away that limb should have carried him by this time. 'Why can't folk do their Bible and prayers o' Sundays, and get it off their stomachs? I say, Milly lass, will ye see if Governor be done wi' the Curate? Do. I'm a losing the whole day along o' him.'
Milly jumped up, accustomed to obey her brother, and as she passed me, whispered, with a wink—
'Money.'
And away she went. Dudley whistled a tune, and swung his foot like a pendulum, as he followed her with his side-glance.
'I say, it is a hard case, Miss, a lad o' spirit should be kept so tight. I haven't a shilling but what comes through his fingers; an' drat the tizzy he'll gi' me till he knows the reason why.'
'Perhaps,' I said, 'my uncle thinks you should earn some for yourself.'
'I'd like to know how a fella's to earn money now-a-days. You wouldn't have a gentleman to keep a shop, I fancy. But I'll ha' a fistful jist now, and no thanks to he. Them executors, you know, owes me a deal o' money. Very honest chaps, of course; but they're cursed slow about paying, I know.'
I made no remark upon this elegant allusion to the executors of my dear father's will.
'An' I tell ye, Maud, when I git the tin, I know who I'll buy a farin' for. I do, lass.'
The odious creature drawled this with a sidelong leer, which, I suppose, he fancied quite irresistible.