“Oh, uncle,” protested Kate, flushing crimson, “pray do not, if you have no chance of paying.”
“You impudent hussy, mind your own concerns,” answered Pasco angrily. “I, with no chance of paying! I’m a man of means. I’ll let you see what that signifies. How d’ y’ do, parson?”
“What! my churchwarden?” exclaimed Mr. Fielding, drawing rein. “What brings you to the moors?”
“Business, sir, a trifle with regard to oak timber. I’ve bought the Brimpts wood—cost me a few hundred, and will bring me a thousand.”
“Glad to hear it, Mr. Pepperill;—and then we shall have a double subscription to our school.”
“I daresay, Mr. Fielding; I’m a free man with my money, as you and others have found. And, by the way, talking of that, could you kindly accommodate me with a little loan of a few pounds. I started from home without a thought but of returning to-day, and I learn that the Government has an eye on these oaks—first-rate timber—and I must to Devonport to strike a bargain. I won’t come to their terms, they must come to mine. Such timber as this is worth its weight in gold.”
“How much do you want, Mr. Pepperill?”
“How much can you spare, Mr. Fielding?”
“Well, let me see.” The rector of Coombe opened his purse. “I have about six guineas here. I shall want to retain one for current expenses. When can you let me have the loan returned.”
“Any day. I’ll drop you a line to my wife—or—on my return. I’m only going to Devonport to get the best price for the timber, and then I shall be back. If you can spare me five guineas—or five sovereigns—I shall be obliged. You know me—a man of substance, a man of means, a warm man. We represent the Church, do we not, Mr. Fielding? and hang Dissenters all, say I.”