"Oh, no offence, miss! I believe _you_; and for that matter the
wench seemed fair-spoken enough, and gave me a drink of cider.
'Tis the matter of a debt, you see." He drew a scrap of dirty
paper from his pocket. "Twelve-seventeen-six, for repairs done to
Wroote Parsonage; new larder, fifteen; lead for window-casements,
eight-six; new fireplace to parlour, one-four-six: ancettera.
I'm a plumber by trade--plumber and glazier--and in business at
Lincoln. William Wright's my name, and Right by nature." Here he
grinned. "Your father would have everything of the best; Epworth
tradesman not worth a damn, excuse me, and meaning no offence.
So he said, or words to that effect. A very particular gentleman,
and his nose at the time into everything. But a man likes to be
paid, you understand? So, having a job down Owston way, I thought
I'd walk over and jog his reverence's memory."

"The money will be paid, sir, in due course, I make no doubt," said
Emilia bravely. Some of her sisters were white in the face.
Hetty alone seemed to ignore the man's presence, and gazed over the
fields towards Epworth.

"Ah, 'in due course!' Let me tell you, miss, that if all the money
owing to me was paid, I'd--I'd--" He broke off. "I have ambitions,
_I_ have: and a head on my shoulders. London's the only place for a
man like me. Gad, if _these_ were only full"--he slapped his
pockets--"there's no saying I wouldn't up and ask one of you to come
along o' me! There's that beauty, yonder," he jerked his thumb at
Hetty. "She's the pick. My word, and you _are_ a beauty, bridling
to yourself there, and thinking dirt of me. Go on, I like you for
it: you can't show too much spirit for William Wright." Molly's hand
closed over Hetty's two, clasped and lying in her lap: Hetty sat