“I have the right to refuse this money,” he said. “It comes too late. It should have been paid at twelve.”
“I beg your pardon. Squire Leech; you yourself gave us time to consult what to do.”
“Because,” said the squire, unguardedly, “I thought you could not pay the interest.”
Herbert could not help smiling.
“We have nothing to do with what you thought.”
The squire frowned and bit his lips with vexation. He tried to think of some way of getting over the difficulty but none presented itself. As he dashed off the signature and took the money, he said, angrily: “The time will come when I will have this place. Your convenient letters won't always come just in the nick of time.”
“I hope to be prepared for you next time, without having to depend on that.”
Still, the squire lingered. The fact was, that, though very angry, he was anxious to know from whom Mrs. Carter had received this opportune help.
“Who sent you this letter?” he asked.
“I don't think we need to tell you that,” said Herbert.