"Well, now," said the boy, nodding, "_I_ think he ought to have borrowed."

Nicholas stared at his son gloomily. "Setting yourself up agen' the
Scriptures, hey? It's time you were a-bed."

"But, father."--

The ex-soldier seldom gave way to passion, but now he banged his fist down
on the table. "Go to bed!" he shouted. "Talk to _me_ of borrowing!
Don't my shoulders ache wi' the curse of it?"

Martin took his discovery off and nursed it. By and by another grew out
of it: If the wicked servant be making thirty per cent, against the
other's ten, he can afford for a time to abate some of his profit, lower
his prices, and, by underselling, drive the other out of the market.

He grew up a tall and taciturn lad, pondering his thoughts while he dug
and planted with his father in the kitchen-gardens. For this from the age
of eighteen he received a small wage, which he carefully put aside.
Then in 1800 his uncle Michael died, and left him a legacy of 50 pounds.
He invested it in the privateering trade, in which the harbour did a brisk
business just then. Three years later his father suffered a stroke of
paralysis--a slight one, but it confined him to his room for some weeks.
Meanwhile, Martin took charge.

"I've been looking into your accounts," he announced one day, as soon as
his father could bear talking to.

"Then you've been taking an infernal liberty."

"I see you've cleared off two of the mortgages--on the home estate here
and the Nanscawne property. You're making, one way and another, close on
500 pounds a year, half of which goes to paying up interest and reducing
the principal by degrees."

"That's about it."

"And to my knowledge three of your tenants are making from 200 to 400
pounds by growing corn, which you might grow yourself. Was ever such
folly? Look at the price corn is making."

"Look at the labour. How can I afford it?"

"By borrowing again on the uncumbered property."

"Your old lidden again? I take my oath I'll never raise a penny on Hall
so long as I live! With blood and sweat I've paid off that mortgage, and
I'll set my curse on you if you renew it when I'm gone."

"We'll try the other, then. Your father raised 1500 pounds on the
Nanscawne lands, and spent it on cards and ropery. We'll raise the same
money, and double it in three years. If we don't--well, I've made 500
pounds of my own, and I'll engage to hand you over every farthing of it."

"Well," his father gave in,