“Couldn't get away sooner, George; here's the money for the sheep, 13 pounds 10s.; no offer for the cow, Jem is driving her home.” “Well, but the money--the 80 pounds, Will?” William looked sulkily down. “I haven't got it, George! There's your draft again, the bank wouldn't take it.” A keen pang shot across George's face, as much for the affront as the disappointment. “They wouldn't take it?” gasped he. “Ay, Will, our credit is down, the whole town knows our rent is overdue. I suppose you know money _must_ be got some way.” “Any way is better than threshing out new wheat at such a price,” said William sullenly. “Ask a loan of a neighbor.” “Oh, Will,” appealed George, “to ask a loan of a neighbor, and be denied--it is bitterer than death. _You_ can do it.” “I! Am I master here?” retorted the younger. “The farm is not farmed my way, nor ever was. No! Give me the plow-handle and I'll cut the furrow, George.” “No doubt, no doubt!” said the other, very sharply, “you'd like to draw the land dry with potato crops, and have fourscore hogs snoring in the farmyard; that's your idea of a farm. Oh! I know you want to be elder brother. Well, I tell'ee what do; you kill me first, Bill Fielding, and then you will be elder brother, and not afore.” Here was a pretty little burst of temper! We have all our sore part. “So be it, George!” replied William, “you got us into the mud, elder brother, you get us out of the mire!” George subdued his tone directly. “Who shall I ask?” said he, as one addressing a bosom counselor. “Uncle Merton, or--or---Mr. Meadows the corn-factor; he lends money at times to friends. It would not be much to either of them.” “Show my empty pockets to Susanna's father! Oh, Will! how can you be so cruel?” “Meadows, then.” “No use for me, I've just offended him a hit; beside he's a man that never knew trouble or ill luck in his life; they are like flints, all that sort.” “Well, look here, I'm pretty well with Meadows. I'll ask him if you will try uncle; the first that meets his man to begin.” “That sounds fair,” said George, “but I can't--well--yes,” said he, suddenly changing his mind. “I agree,” said he, with simple cunning, and lowered his eyes; but suddenly raising them, he said cheerfully, “Why, you're in luck, Bill; here's your man,” and he shot like an arrow into his own kitchen. “Confound it,” said the other, fairly caught. Meadows, it is to be observed, was wandering about the premises until such time as Robinson should return; and while the brothers were arguing, he had been in the barn, and finding old Merton there had worked still higher that prudent man's determination to break off matters between his daughter and the farmer of “The Grove.” After the usual salutations William Fielding, sore against the grain, began: “I did not know you were here, sir! I want to speak to you.” “I am at your service, Mr. Willum.”