'
'Sir,' said Stephen, trembling, 'grandfather is quite simple and dark. He
couldn't understand that you were buying the place of him. Besides, he's
never had the money?'
'What do you mean, you young scoundrel?' cried the master. 'I gave it
into his own hands, and made him put it into his waistcoat pocket for
safety. Simple is he, and dark? He could attend his son's funeral four
miles off only a few months ago; and he can understand my niece Anne's
fine reading, which I cannot understand myself. Ask him for the three
five-pound notes I gave him, if you have not had them already.'
'How long ago is it?' inquired Stephen.
'You can't remember!' said the master, laughing: 'well, well, Jones left
you a keepsake at your garden wicket for you to remember the day by.'
Stephen's face flushed into a wrathful crimson, but he did not speak; and
in a minute or two the master said sharply,--
'Come, be off with you, if you've got nothing else to say.'
'I have got something else to say,' answered Stephen, walking up to the
table and looking steadily into his master's face. 'God sees both of us;
and He knows you have no right to the place, and I have.
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