Besides, Squire,
if you give way about this here farm, all the others will come down on
you. I'm not saying a word agin your tinants, but where there's money
to be made you can't trust not no man."
"Well, well," said the Squire, "perhaps you are right and perhaps you
ain't. Right or wrong, you always talk like Solomon in all his glory.
Anyway, be off with that note and let me have the answer as soon as
you get back. Mind you don't go loafing and jawing about down in
Boisingham, because I want my answer."
"So he means to borrow the money if he can get it," said Ida to
herself as she sat, an invisible auditor, doing her hair by the open
window. "George can do more with him in five minutes than I can do in
a week, and I know that he hates Janter. I believe Janter threw up the
farm because of his quarrelling with George. Well, I suppose we must
take our chance."
Meanwhile George had mounted his cart and departed upon the road to
Boisingham, urging his fat pony along as though he meant to be there
in twenty minutes. But so soon as he was well out of reach of the
Squire's shouts and sight of the Castle gates, he deliberately turned
up a bye lane and jogged along for a mile or more to a farm, where he
had a long confabulation with a man about thatching some ricks.
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