" He chose out saw, hammer,
plane and auger, and packed them up in a carpenter's frail, with a
few other tools. "Don't 'ee talk about payment, now; naybors must be
nayborly. Only, you see, a man must look after his own."
Mr. Raymond climbed the hill toward the towans with the carpenter's
frail slung over his shoulder. As luck would have it, near the top
he met Squire Moyle descending on horseback. The Vicar nodded
"Good-morning" in passing, but had not gone a dozen steps when the
old man reined up and called after him.
"Hi!"
The Vicar halted.
"Whose basket is that you're carrying?" Then, getting no answer,
"Wait till next Saturday night, when Joel Hugh comes to thank you.
I suppose you know he rents his cottage by the week?"
"No harm shall come to him through me," said the Vicar, and retraced
his steps down the hill. The Squire followed at a foot-pace,
grinning as he went.
That night Mr. Raymond went back to his beloved books, but not to
read; and early next morning was ready at the cross-roads for the van
which plied twice a week between Innis village and Truro. He had
three boxes with him--heavy boxes, as Calvin the van-driver remarked
when it came to lifting them on board.
"Thee'rt not leaving us, surely?" said he.
"No."
"But however didst get these lumping boxes up the hill?"
"My son helped me."
He had modestly calculated on averaging a shilling a volume for his
books; but discovered on leaving the shop at Truro that it worked out
at one-and-threepence.
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