“Merely to help me with my accounts. My time is so occupied, and I do business in so many ways, that my books get somewhat puzzling--I mean to a man who is taken up with business.” “I am entirely at your service.” “But--you understand--I don’t want my affairs talked about. People say I have plenty of money, that I’m a man who picks it up everywhere; but I don’t desire that they should know how much I have, and what my speculations are, and what they bring in.” “I can hold my tongue.” “Would you look at my books now?” “Certainly.” Accordingly, Walter Bramber re-entered the house, and was given the books in a private sitting-room, and worked away at them for a couple of hours. The confusion was great: Pepperill might have had a genius for business, but this was not manifest in his books. Presently Pasco came in. “Well,” said he, “make ’em out, eh?” “You must excuse my saying it,” said Bramber; “but--if these are all--your affairs are in a very unsatisfactory condition.” “Unsatisfactory? oh, pshaw! Of course, I have other resources; there’s the Brimpts forest of oaks. There’s--oh, lots; winkles and cockles, tea and coffee not entered.” “Sixpence a head; over twenty, fourpence ha’penny,” said Walter Bramber drily. “Oh, lots--lots of other things. I haven’t entered all.” “I sincerely hope it is so.” “It is so, on my word.” “Because--you seem to me to be losing seriously on every count.” “Losing? You don’t know creditor from debtor account. That comes of education; it is never of use. Nothing like business for teaching a man. I don’t believe in your book-learning.” “I’ll come again to-morrow and go more carefully into the accounts.” “Oh, thank you, not necessary. It is clear to me you do not understand my system--and mistake sides.” Pasco became red and angry. “Look here, Mr. Schoolmaster, let me give you a word. You don’t belong to the labourers--you won’t be able to make friends of them. You don’t belong to the gentry; there are none here--so you need not think of their society. You don’t belong to the middle class--you are not a farmer, or a tradesman, or a merchant; so they will have nothing to do with you. You make my accounts all right, and the balance on the right side; give up your foolish book-keeping as learned at college, and set my accounts right by common sense, and I’ll see what I can do to get you taken up by some respectable people. And, one thing more. Don’t go contradicting men of property, and saying that there was no cock-fighting at Waterloo, because there was; and people don’t like contradictions. When I broke open the belfry door that the ringers might give Mr. Puddicombe a peal, I let the world see I wasn’t going to be priest-ridden; and we are not going to be schoolmaster-ridden neither, and told our accounts are wrong, and that Waterloo, where the cock-fight was, is not in England.” CHAPTER XI DISCORDS