“Aye, you’ve hit t’ nail fair on t’ head this time, Swith’n. I couldn’t ha’ put it better my-sen—not when I was i’ my gifted prime, and I shouldn’t wonder if it comes o’ you goin’ to t’ chapil, if not reg’lar, a toathri times i’ t’ year. I was a chapil-goer my-sen when I was a young fella and I call to mind a famous sermon by an owd man called Laycock—he was a local, but a grander preycher nor some ’at wore white chokers. It was i’ t’ days when they didn’t watter t’ Gospil down same as they do now, when they’re flayed o’ callin’ t’ devil hard names chance he happens to hear ’em. Owd Laycock pictur’d him as a bull in a mad hig ’at no man could stand up again’. But he tewk both t’ man and t’ bull down to t’ railway; and he set t’ man on t’ Scotchman and t’ bull atween t’ lines; and he opened t’ Scotchman’s throttle up yonder aboon t’ Junction; and eh, dear, there wasn’t as much wind left i’ that bull when t’ train had passed as there is i’ my poor bellowses at this minute. I made a set o’ grand verses, but they’re clean gone. It seems a sad waste o’ good stuff.”
“It was a sadder waste of a good bull,” murmured one of the company whose business made him a judge of such matters.
“T’ bull ’ud ha’ made a sad waste of a good man, wouldn’t it?” snapped Swithin.
“It was only what you mud call a parrible—this o’ owd Laycock’s,” Ambrose explained soothingly. “But what caps me is ’at Maniwel hasn’t so much as a foul look for t’ bull—meanin’ by that word both Baldwin and Nancy’s husband; but contraireywise ’ud go out of his road to do ’em a kindness.”
Before he could complete his observation, a shower that had been threatening for some time began to fall heavily, and the company dispersed—some to their homes and others to the parlour of the inn where the entrance of Inman prevented any continuation of the discussion.
Jealousy is a good stone on which to sharpen a man’s wits; but there was another in the village, in whom that trait was entirely wanting, who was watching the course of events with a quick intelligence that read into every move of Inman’s its proper significance. In one matter Maniwel was misled, for Nancy’s name figured in the list of creditors with the sum of £500 against it, and he was thankful that the girl’s loss was no larger. To what extent she was still interested in the joinery business he could not be sure; but he knew that by the terms of her father’s will Baldwin had the option to reduce his indebtedness, and from the known fact that the machinery was Baldwin’s own he concluded that little of the original loan was now owing.
Baldwin’s name figured high up in the list of creditors; and the outlook in his case was dark as the realisable assets were small, and it seemed likely that they would be absorbed in their entirety by the expense of collection.
Although Maniwel was naturally magnanimous, and less ready than most to attribute selfish motives to Inman, he was too shrewd an observer to overlook the evidences of duplicity that multiplied as the days went by; for it is a mistake to suppose that a large heart can be indulged only at the expense of a small brain. The wisdom of the serpent may be usefully combined with the harmlessness of the dove, and Maniwel had long ago reached the conclusion that Inman was working for his own ends and hoodwinking the master who regarded him as his only friend. He was convinced that Inman was the purchaser of all Baldwin’s property, and he shared his convictions with his own family but with no one else.
Jagger was indifferent. The money had been Nancy’s to start with—why shouldn’t it return to her? As for a double-dyed rascal like Inman—well, such men were apt to over-reach themselves and he could afford to wait. Meantime, any stick, however crooked, was good enough to beat such a dog as Baldwin with, and the harder Inman laid it on the better he would be pleased.
Hannah’s pity was reserved for Nancy, whose miseries had earned her forgiveness long ago. As for Grannie, she shook her head mournfully and said: