Old Rattenbury breathed freely.
“Sure—cock sure,” said he.
“Now, look here, Eli,” continued Dick; “I ask your advice. I’ve saved a bit o’ money—in all some twenty-five pounds—a little more or less. Now, that wi’ the ten pound Julia has lent to the old gem’man makes thirty-five, and if it be doubled, as you say, it will be forty-five. Now, if I’d a matter of about a hundred pound, I’d take Yatton Farm, and would stock it; it ain’t a terrible big place, and I could manage it. What say you? would old Jack Hannaford double the twenty-five as well as the ten?”
“Sure he would.”
“Then I’ll risk it, and yet I’d like to be sure first. I think I’ll see if he doubles Julia’s loan. If he do that, then I’ll trust him in the same way with the rest—twenty-five. But you say I must wait a month.”
“Oh dear no, two days suffice. Pigs fatten, as dandelions blow, all of a night in Americay.”
“Well, I can but try.”
“Don’t go to the grave till Thursday, and we’ll be there together. We’ll see; maybe the money may then be doubled, maybe it won’t.”
“Very well, Thursday; I’d be afraid to go alone.”
On the following Thursday Eli Rattenbury appeared at the cottage door; Richard Redlake was awaiting him.