“The coal merchant must wait,” said Pasco, shrugging his shoulders.
“He will not wait. You have passed over unnoticed his former demands, and now, unless in a fortnight the money is paid, he will make the house too hot to hold us.”
“We can sell something.”
“What? You have parted with your farm, the orchard, the meadow—with everything but the house, to follow your foolish passion to be a merchant.”
“He must wait. I have to wait till folk pay me my little bills. Money doesn’t come in rushes, but in leaks.”
“He will not wait. Where is the ready money to come from?”
Pasco scratched his head.
“If everything else fails,” said she further, “then I propose you go to old Farmer Pooke and get a loan of him.”
“Pooke? he won’t lend money.”
“I am not so sure of that. Jan has called several times since Kitty has been away, and yesterday he told me, in his shy, awkward fashion, that he had spoken with his father about her. The old man made some to-do—he had fancied Rose Ash as a match for his son, as she is likely to have a good round sum of money; but when Jan insisted, he gave way. You see everyone in the place knows that Kate has something left by her mother, but they don’t know how much, and, instead of three hundred pounds or so, they have got the notion into their heads that it is a thousand pounds. Now, as the father is ready to let his son marry Kate, I think it like enough he would help you, so as to prevent the scandal of bailiffs in Coombe Cellars.”