s.

"But the Boxalls are numerous, and fairly flourishing. They have
probably put away something, and as neighbors and friends--"

"I've quarrelled with them. I can't borrow of them," growled
Bideabout.

"Then there are the Snellings--"

"I've offended them as well."

"But you have other friends."

"I haven't one."

"There is Simon Verstage, a warm man; he could help you in an
emergency."

"He's never been the same with me since I married Matabel, his
adopted daughter. He had other ideas for her, I fancy, and he is
short and nasty wi' me now. I can't ask him."

"Have you then, really, no friends?"

"Not one."

"Then there must be some fault in you, Kink. A man who goes through
life without making friends, and quarrels even with the horse that
carries him, is not one who will leave a gap when he passes out of
the world. I shall expect my money. If you see no other way of
satisfying me, I must have a mortgage on your holding. I'll not
press you at once--but, like Clutch, I shall want my feed of oats."

"Then," said Jonas, surlily, as he turned his hat about, and
looked down into it, "I don't see no other chance of gettin the
money than--"

"Than what?"

"That's my concern," retorted the Broom-Squire. "Now I'm goin' to
see whether old Clutch is ready--or whether he be shammin' still."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SLEEPING DRAUGHT.

Jonas found that old Clutch was not lavishing endearments on the
gray mare over the intervening partition of stalls, but was lying
down on the straw. Nothing said or done would induce the horse to
rise, and the hostler told Bideabout that he believed the beast
was really lame. It had been overworked at its advanced age, and
must be afforded rest.

"He's a Radical," said the Broom-Squire. "You move that gray into
another stable and Clutch will forget about his lameness, I dare
swear. He's twenty-five and has a liquorish eye, still--it's
shameful."

Bideabout was constrained to walk from Godalming to the Punch-Bowl,
and this did not serve to mend his humor. He reached home late at
night, when the basin was full of darkness, and the only light
that showed came from the chamber where Mehetabel sat with her baby.

When Jonas entered, he saw by the rushlight that she was not
undressed, and heard by her voice that she was anxious.

"The baby is very unwell, Jonas," she said, and extending her hand,
lit a tallow candle at the meagre flame of the rushlight.

As the wick f