She let go her hand, for Bramber came in, and asked what he had to pay. “Sixpence,” answered Zerah, “and what you like to the little maid. I reckon she’ll take a ha’penny.” Kate’s head fell, covered with shame, and she thrust her hands behind her back. Walter paid Mrs. Pepperill, and said, without looking at Kate, “The little maid and I understand each other, and the account between us is settled.” “Now look here,” said Zerah, allowing her niece to escape, and laying hold of the young man, “I want a word with you, Mr. Schoolmaster. My husband has let you go through his accounts. I reckon he’d got that muddled himself, he didn’t know his way out, and thought you’d have led him, as well as Jack-o’-lantern leads out of a bog. The light is good enough, but when the mire is there, what can the light do but show it? It can’t dry it up. If it weren’t for the cockles and coffee as I get a few sixpences by, I reckon we’d have been stogged (mired) long ago. But Pasco, he has the idea that he’s a man of business and can manage a thousand affairs, and as ill-luck will have it, that brother o’ mine feeds his fancies wi’ fresh meat. Now I want you to tell me exactly what you found in his books.” “I am not justified in speaking of Mr. Pepperill’s private affairs.” “What! not to his wife?” “Not to anyone. I was taken into confidence.” “Bless you! he couldn’t help himself. Set a man as don’t know nothing about machinery to manage an engine, and he’ll get it all to pieces in no time. Pasco knows nothing about business, and there he is trying to run coal stores, wool, timber--all kinds o’ things. I know what it will come to, though you keep mum.” To escape further questioning, Bramber left Coombe Cellars, and walked towards the village. The school was closed for a week. Some painting and plastering had to be done in it before he could begin his duties. It was as well, he thought; it allowed him time to find his bearings, to get to understand something of the people amongst whom he was to be settled, and whose children he was to instruct. As Bramber walked in the dusk, he encountered the rector, Mr. Fielding, who stopped him. “Are you going indoors?” asked the parson; “or have you leisure and inclination for a stroll?” “You do me an honour, sir; I shall be proud.” “Let us walk by the water-side. This is a beautiful hour--neither night nor day--something of one, something of the other, like life. And who can say of the twilight in which he walks whether it will broaden into perfect day or deepen into utter night.” The rector took the young man’s arm.