“As that, having sold Chillacot, you ought to spend the purchase money there, and not be throwing it about in town.” “Do they now? But I’m not throwing it about; it is all in the bank.” “I reckon Mr. Jingles—I mean your son, ma’am—has it there in his own name.” “Not at all, cap’n. The money is mine.” Captain Tubb whisked round the brim of his hat with both hands. “There have been changes since you’ve gone,” he said. “For one, there is old Sam Ceely married.” “Sam Ceely!” echoed Mrs. Saltren, and dropped her hands in her lap. “It does seem almost wicked for a man at his time of life and crippled. But he and Joan Melhuish have been keeping company a long time, and now he has come in for some money. I hope,” said the captain, “that the childer, if there come any, mayn’t come into this world with half their fingers blowed off through poaching, and a bad life through drunkenness.” Mrs. Saltren said nothing. “There’s another thing,” pursued Captain Tubb. “The new quarry is running out, and we’re thinking of reopening the old one.” “What—that which is full of water? It is worked out.” “Oh, no! there is more lime if more head be taken off; but there can be nothing done till the water is pumped out.” “You are thinking of pumping the quarry dry?” “Yes, ma’am; with a water-wheel it could be cleared. I’ve talked the matter with Mr. Macduff and the trustees, and they are content to let me have the quarry rent free for five years, if I will put up the proper machinery to get out the water.” “The expense will be very heavy.” Captain Tubb stroked his beard, and put the ends into his mouth; then, after consideration, he admitted— “Well, it will cost money.” “And are you really going to sink money in pumping out water?” “Consider, Mrs. Saltren, that I shall have the working of the quarry for no rent at all during five years.” “And you think it worth the outlay?” “Seven per cent. guaranteed.” “My son says that all I can expect to get for my capital if invested is five per cent.” “I dare say, in town. At Orleigh, seven.” Neither spoke for some time; Captain Tubb continued to play alternately with his beard and his hat; and Mrs. Saltren looked on the floor, then furtively at her visitor. Presently the widow asked, “What will you take? Bottled stout or spirits and water?” “Thank you, whichever you drink.” “I drink neither,” answered Mrs. Saltren, drawing herself up. “I taste nothing but tea and water; but when an old friend comes and sees me, I make an exception. I have some whisky in the sideboard—Giles suffers in his inside, and I’m obliged to keep it by me against his attacks. If you will allow me, I will get it out.” She rang for water and tumblers, and produced the spirits and sugar. “Now tell me some further news of Orleigh,” she said, as she stirred a glass.