"
"Good Heavens! I hope not," replied Will laughing.
He drove out of the town again, in a different direction, for about
a mile. On rising ground, overlooking the green valley of the Ouse,
stood a small, plain, solidly-built house, sheltered on the cold
side by a row of fine hawthorns, nearly as high as the top of its
chimneys. In front, bordered along the road by hollies as
impenetrable as a stone wall, lay a bright little flower garden. The
Haws, originally built for the bailiff of an estate, long since
broken up, was nearly a century old. Here Will's father was born,
and here, after many wanderings, he had spent the greater part of
his married life.
"Sam," said Will, as they drew up at the gate, "I don't think I
shall pay for this drive. You're much richer than I am."
"Very good, sir," was the chuckling reply, for Sam knew he always
had to expect a joke of this kind from young Mr. Warburton. "As you
please, sir."
"You couldn't lend me half-a-crown, Sam?"
"I daresay I could, sir, if you really wanted it."
"Do then."
Will pocketed the half-crown, jumped off the trap, and took his bag.
"After all, Sam, perhaps I'd better pay. Your wife might grumble.
Here you are."
He handed two shillings and sixpence in small change, which Sam took
and examined with a grin of puzzlement.
"Well, what's the matter? Don't you say thank you, nowadays?"
"Yes, sir--thank you, sir--it's all right, Mr. Will."
"I should think it is indeed.
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