The man flushed.
“How has it happened now?” repeated Nicholas distinctly.
“I lent a bit, sir.”
“To whom?”
“Widow Thisby. She’s an old woman, sir.”
“Tell me the whole story,” said Nicholas curtly.
Again the flush rose to the man’s face.
“Her son got into a bit of trouble, sir. It was a matter of a sovereign or going to gaol. He’s only a youngster, and the prison smell sticks. Trust folk for nosing it out. He’s got a chance now, and will be sending his mother a trifle presently.”
“Then I suppose she’ll repay you?”
Job fidgeted with his cap.