“Your sarvent, Sir Moses,” ducked the farmer, seating himself in the dread cash-extracting chair. “Well, my man, and how dy’e do? I hope you’re well—How’s your wife? I hope she’s well,” continued the Baronet, watching Henerey’s protracted dive into his corduroy breeches-pockets, and his fish up of the dirty canvas money-bag. Having deliberately untied the string, Henerey, without noticing the Baronet’s polite enquiries, shook out a few local five pound notes, along with some sovereigns, shillings, and sixpence upon the table, and heaving a deep sigh, pushed them over towards Mr. Teaser. That worthy having wet his thumb at his mouth proceeded to count the dirty old notes, and finding them as he expected, even with the aid of the change, very short of the right amount, he asked Henerey if he had any bills against them? “W-h-o-y no-a ar think not,” replied Henerey, scratching his straggling-haired head, apparently conning the matter over in his mind. “W-h-o-y, yeas, there’s the Income Tax, and there’s the lime to ‘loo off.” “Lime!” exclaimed the Baronet, “What have I to do with lime?” “W-h-o-y, yeas, you know you promised to ‘loo the lime,” replied Hererey, appealing to Mr. Teaser, who frowned and bit his lip at the over-true assertion. “Never heard of such a thing!” exclaimed Sir Moses, seeing through the deceit at a glance. “Never heard of such a thing,” repeated he. “That’s the way you keep up your rents is it?” asked he: “Deceive yourselves by pretending to get more money than you do, and pay rates and taxes upon your deceit as a punishment. That ‘ill not do! dom’d if it will,” continued the Baronet, waxing warm. “Well, but the income tax won’t bring your money up to anything like the right amount,” observed Mr. Teaser to Henerey, anxious to get rid of the lime question. “W-h-o-y n-o-a,” replied Henerey, again scratching his pate, “but it’s as much as I can bring ye to-day.” “To-day, man!” retorted Sir Moses, “Why, don’t you know that this is the rent-day! the day on which the entire monetary transactions on the whole estate are expected to be settled.” _Henerey_—“O, w-h-o-y it ‘ill make ne odds to ye, Sir Moses.” _Sir Moses_—“Ne odds to me! How do you know that?” _Henerey_—(apologetically) “Oh, Sir Moses, you have plenty, Sir Moses.” _Sir Moses_—“Me plenty! me plenty! I’m the poorest crittur alive!” which was true enough, only not in the sense Sir Moses intended it. _Henerey_—“Why, why, Sir Moses, ar’ll bring ye some more after a bit; but ar tell ye,” appealing to Teaser, “_Ye mun ‘loo for the lime._”