rch of it, the
farmer threw up his head with the vigour of a young man, and thundered
for Master Gammon, by name, vehemently wrathful at the combined
hypocrisy of the pair. He called twice, and his face was purple and red
as he turned toward the cart, saying,--

"We'll go without the old man."

Mrs. Sumfit then intertwisted her fingers, and related how that she and
Master Gammon had one day, six years distant, talked on a lonely evening
over the mischances which befel poor people when they grew infirm, or
met with accident, and what "useless clays" they were; and yet they had
their feelings. It was a long and confidential talk on a summer evening;
and, at the end of it, Master Gammon walked into Wrexby, and paid
a visit to Mr. Hammond, the carpenter, who produced two strong
saving-boxes excellently manufactured by his own hand, without a lid to
them, or lock and key: so that there would be no getting at the contents
until the boxes were full, or a pressing occasion counselled the
destruction of the boxes. A constant subject of jest between Mrs. Sumfit
and Master Gammon was, as to which first of them would be overpowered
by curiosity to know the amount of their respective savings; and their
confessions of mutual weakness and futile endeavours to extract one
piece of gold from the hoard.

"And now, think it or not," said Mrs. Sumfit, "I got that power over
him, from doctorin' him, and cookin' for him, I persuaded him to help my
poor Dahly in my blessed's need. I'd like him to do it by halves, but he
can't."

Master Gammon appeared round a corner of the house, his box, draped by
his handkerchief, under his arm. The farmer and Robert knew, when he was
in sight, that gestures and shouts expressing extremities of the need
for haste, would fail to accelerate his steps, so they allowed him to
come on at his own equal pace, steady as Time, with the peculiar lopping
bend of knees which jerked the moveless trunk regularly upward, and
the ancient round eyes fixed contemplatively forward. There was an
affectingness in this view of the mechanical old man bearing his poor
hoard to bestow it.

Robert said out, unawares, "He mustn't be let to part with h'old
pennies."

"No;" the farmer took him up; "nor I won't let him."

"Yes, father!" Rhoda intercepted his address to Master Gammon. "Yes,
father!" she hardened her accent. "It is for my sister. He does a good
thing. Let him do it."

"Mas' Gammon, what ha' ye got there?" the f