He stood there for some minutes, giving vent to his feelings in rather strong language; and then he went back to revenge himself upon the butter for the want of meat. Jane laid her hand upon her beating throat: beating with its tribulation.
Between eight and nine Jane went to the next door. Samuel Lynn had come home for the evening, and was sitting at the table in his parlour, helping the two little girls with a geographical puzzle, which had baffled their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and sedate in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.
"Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for thee."
"In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."
"In what way, friend?"
"Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I think he might agree to give me time."
"Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot overstep them. To interfere with his private affairs would not be seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."
The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only chance—some one interceding for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.
"Why not go to him thyself, friend?"
"Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."