“Nothing—absolutely nothing. Leave the cart alone,” answered Pasco hastily. “Nothing at all.”
Pepperill drew his horse away, unharnessed it, and ran the dog-cart into the coach-house. Then he stood for a moment musing, and looking at it. Presently he turned his back, locked the door, and left his conveyance undischarged of its load of shavings.
“I may chuck ’em away, any time,” said he, “or give ’em to Zerah to kindle her kitchen fire with, or”— He did not finish the sentence, even in thought.
CHAPTER XXV
BORROWING AGAIN
When Pepperill, tired with his long day’s journey, and harassed in mind, went to his bedroom, Zerah at once fell upon him.
“How have you fared, I’d like to know? But lawk! what’s the good of my axing, when I’m pretty confident your journey has been all down hill, with an upset of the cart presently.”
“And if it be so, who is to blame but your brother?” retorted Pepperill angrily.
“My brother may have made his mistakes sometimes, but not always—you never by any chance fail to do the wrong thing.”
“He has dragged me into this confounded affair of the Brimpts timber; and now—I cannot sell the bark or the oaks.”
“He had nothing to say to the wool. What made you buy at a wrong price?”