"I reckon you'm right. What yew knows I larnt ye," said Master. "I larnt yew and Mary to spell, and I mind the time when yew was a bit of a lad wi' a turned-up nose and squinty eyes. Proper ugly yew was. Didn't I whack they old breeks o' yourn? Aw now, didn't I? Dusted 'em proper, I did. In these council schules what they has now there bain't no beating, but love ye, Peter, in the old village schules us used to whack the lads every day--aye, and the maids tu. There be many a dame about here and Lydford whose buttocks I warmed when her was a maid. Them was brave times, Peter, sure 'nuff." "Better volks tu. Us had Dartmoor to ourselves them days," said Peter, anxious to propitiate the old man. "Mun spell all the words proper when I writes to Jackie. He'm vull o' education," Master went on. "T-u-r-double-n, turnn, n-u-p-s, nups, turnnups. Aw, Peter, yew ain't forgot what I larnt ye." He put down his pen, assumed the mantle of Nestor, and asked: "Can I oblige ye, Peter?" The little man replied that he could, to the extent of twopence. Master became grave and sorrowful, wagged his head, and behaved generally as people will when the integrity of their purse is threatened. "Anything else, Peter--advice, sympathy, loving-kindness, you'm welcome," he answered. "I be a poor man. I was never treated as I deserved, yew mind. If I lends two pennies they don't come back. I be an old man, and I've a-larnt that. They be like little birds, what come to my window in winter for crumbs, and don't come back 'cept for more crumbs. I be advising yew, Peter; don't ye borrow money, I ses. And I be advising myself; don't ye lend it, I ses." This was all very wise, only Peter could not appreciate it. Wisdom slakes no man's thirst. He replied that he had come to the village for sugar, and Mother Cobley at the shop refused to serve him without the money, which he had unfortunately forgotten. He added an opinion of Mother Cobley which was not charitable. Master recited other verses from his book of wisdom. To succeed in trade it was necessary to be severe when people came buying without money. He admitted that Mother Cobley practised severity to the point of ruthlessness, he was not prepared to deny that Mother Cobley would rather permit her closest relations to walk in darkness than advance them one tallow candle to walk by on credit, but he impressed upon Peter the fact that Mother Cobley was a "poor lone widdie" who had to protect herself against the wiles of customers. To sum up the matter: "If yew buys her sugar her wants your twopence. It bain't no profit to she if yew has her sugar and she don't ha' your twopence. It gives she what us calls book-debts, and they be muddlesome and contrairy things."