had only partially reassured her; it seemed too good to be true. She
could not believe without seeing. She now saw, suddenly, blindingly.
And her relief, beneath that stately deportment of hers, was pathetic
in its simple intensity. It would have moved John Batchgrew, had he
been in any degree susceptible to the thrill of pathos.

"I doubt if I've seen so much money all at once before," said Mrs.
Maldon, smiling weakly.

"Happen not!" said Mr. Batchgrew, proud, with insincere casualness,
and he added in exactly the same tone: "I'm leaving it with ye
to-night."

Mrs. Maldon was aghast, but she feigned sprightliness as she
exclaimed--

"You're not leaving all this money here to-night?"

"I am," said the trustee. "That's what I came for. Evans's were three
hours late in completing, and the bank was closed. I have but just got
it. I'm not going home." (He lived eight miles off, near Axe.) "I've
got to go to a Church meeting at Red Cow, and I'm sleeping there.
John's Ernest is calling here for me presently. I don't fancy driving
over them moors with near a thousand pun in my pocket--and colliers
out on strike--not at my age, missis! If you don't know what Red Cow
is, I reckon I do. It's your money. Put it in a drawer and say nowt,
and I'll fetch it to-morrow. What'll happen to it, think ye, seeing
as it hasn't got legs?" He spoke with the authority of a trustee. And
Mrs. Maldon felt that her reputation for sensible equanimity was worth
preserving. So she said bravely--