He amused himself for a while, as his way was, in watching the old creature squirm from one embarrassment to another. First, she feared he would see how anxious she was in the matter, and then she feared he wouldn't; it was an unfair advantage, she felt, to take of a woman "that had allus had her own living to addle, but what war noan dependant on onybody's charity, for all that." Roddick grew swiftly weary of her--weary, with one of his hot, insane frenzies. He tossed her a sovereign, as he would have thrown a bone to his dog, and turned to his eggs and bacon. "That will do for to-day," he snapped. "You can leave as soon as your legs will carry you." "But there's th' kitchen not fettled up yet, an' th' bedroom----" began the woman. "Well, they must wait till to-morrow. I can't stand your clatter, clatter, clatter, upstairs and down. Heaven knows why it allowed man to hit on the notion of clogs!" Mrs. Whitaker was not insensible to fear of her master's black moods; but it shocked her sense of decency that the domestic rites should go unperformed. "Axing your pardon, sir, what'll you do for th' Kirsmas dinner? There's th' turkey to be roasted, an' th' sauce to be made, an' th' plum pudding----" "Confound the lot of them! I shall dine off cheese and bread. Good day, Mrs. Whitaker." The woman made off with what speed she could muster, realizing that Roddick was not all a God-fearing man should be, yet inclined--in the light of the golden sovereign clutched in her withered palm--to make allowance for the most sinful of masters on the blessed Christmas Day. Roddick finished his breakfast, and pulled round his chair to the fire. "Humph!" growled he, lighting his pipe. "Now we'll salute the happy morn, and be as jolly as we're bound to be. What a rum sort of place the world is!" He read till twelve o'clock, and had just thrown down his book in disgust, when there came a knock at the outer door. His face brightened as he saw the wiry little man in velveteen who stood on the threshold. "Oh, it's you, Riggs, is it? Come in. Have you got a message for me?" "Yes, sir; from Miss Laverack. I'm to wait for an answer, sir." Roddick jerked open the envelope, and ran his eye over the note. He tried to keep back any hint of the passion that warmed his blood at sight of the well-known handwriting; but the man in velveteen had not been a keeper for fifteen years without acquiring a quick eye. "All right. I'll scribble an answer at once. What will you take, Riggs? Beer--whisky?" He was not long in returning with his reply to the letter, and Riggs also left Wynyates with a well-defined feeling that Mr. Roddick came very seasonably.