ead 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
motionless as a statue. "If only your father would trade you off
against an honest debt--But you're gentry: I knows the sort.
Well, well, 'tis a long tramp back to Owston: so here's wishing you
good night, missies all. If I take back no money, and no pay but a
pint of sour cider, I've seen the prettiest picter in all
Lincolnshire; so we'll count it a holiday."

He was gone. With the dropping of the sun a chilly shadow had fallen
on the mound, and for some moments the sisters remained motionless,
agonised, each in her own way distraught.

"The brute!" said Kezzy at length, drawing a long breath.

Hetty rose deliberately. "Child," she said, and her voice was hard,
"don't be a goose! The poor creature came for his money. He had the
right to insult us."

She smoothed the dew from her skirt and walked swiftly down the
slope.

At the foot of it Johnny Whitelamb had risen and was holding his
drawing aslant, in some hope, perhaps, that the angle migh