Rutter and Harding--starvation itself would be preferable
to an indebtedness of that kind. Then again, he did not want his poverty
known. He had defied Talbot Rutter, and had practically shown him the
door when the colonel doubted his ability to pay Harry's debts and
still live, and no humiliation would be greater than to see Rutter's
satisfaction over his abject surrender. No--if the worst came to the
worst, he would slip back to Wesley, where he was always welcome and
take up the practice of the law, which he had abandoned since his
father's death, and thus earn money enough not to be a burden to Peggy.
In the meantime something might turn up. Perhaps another of Gadgem's
thumb-screws could be fastened on some delinquent and thus extort a
drop or two; or the bank might begin paying ten per cent.; or another
prepayment might be squeezed out of a ground rent. If none of these
things turned out to his advantage, then Gadgem and Pawson must continue
their search for customers who would have the rare opportunity of
purchasing, direct "from the private collection of a gentleman," etc.,
etc., "one first-class English saddle," etc., etc.

"The meantime," however, brought no relief. Indeed so acute had the
financial strain become that another and a greater sacrifice--one that
fairly cut his heart in two--faced him--the parting with his dogs. That
four mouths besides his own and Todd's were too many to feed had of late
become painfully evident. He might send them to Wesley of course, but
then he remembered that no one at Tom Coston's ever had a gun in their
hands, and they would only be a charge and a nuisance to Peggy. Or he
might send them up into Carroll County to a farmer friend, but in that
case he would have to pay their keep, and he needed the money for those
at home. And so he waited and pondered.

A coachman from across the park solved the difficulty a day or two
later with a whispered word in Todd's ear, which set the boy's temper
ablaze--for he dearly loved the dogs himself--until he had talked it
over with Pawson and Gadgem, and had then broken the news to his master
as best he could.

"Dem dogs is eatin' dere haids off," he began, fidgeting about the
table, brushing the crumbs on to a tray only to spill half of them on
the floor--"an' Mister Floyd's coachman done say dat his young marster's
jes' a-dyin' for 'em an' don't cyar what he pay for 'em, dat is if ye--"
but St. George cut him short.

"What did you say,