She gave him not so much as a crumb of sympathy. "No good settin down," she told him. "You ain't done yet. You'll take that clock down to Goldmann's after dark, and you'll get sixteen shillings for it. If he won't give you that for it, you'll pop your own great coat." Ernie stared at her. He was uncertain whether to show fight or not. "Dad's clock?--what he give me when I married?" "Yes. Dad's clock." She regarded him with eyes in which resentment flamed sullenly. "Can I feed six on the shilling a week he gives me--rent and all?" Ernie went out and brought back the money. She took it without a word, and wrapping it up in a little bit of paper, left it at the Manor-house. Mrs. Trupp, who was holding a council with Bess and Bobby Chislehurst, unwrapped the packet and showed the money. "She's put something up the spout," said the sage Bobby. The three talked the situation over. There was only one thing to be done. Somebody must go round to Mr. Pigott and intercede for Ernie. Bobby was selected. "You'll get him round if anybody can," Bess told her colleague encouragingly. Bobby, shaking a dubious head, went. Mr. Pigott, like everybody else in Old Town, was devoted to the young curate; but he presented a firm face now to the other's entreaties. "Every chance I've given him." he said, and scolded and growled as he paced to and fro in the little room looking across Victoria Drive on to the allotments. "He's a lost soul, is Ernie Caspar. That's my view, if you care for it." Bobby retreated, not without hope, and bustled round to Ruth. "You must go and see him!" he rapped out almost imperiously--"yourself--this evening--after work--at 6.30--to the minute." He would be praying at that hour. Ruth, who was fighting for her life now, went. Mr. Pigott, at the window, saw her coming. "Here she comes," he murmured. "O dear me! You women, you know, you're the curse of my life. I'd be a good and happy man only for you." Mrs Pigott was giggling at his elbow. "She'll get round you, all right, my son," she said. "She'll roll you up in two ticks till you're just a little round ball of nothing in particular, and then gulp you down." "She won't!" the other answered truculently. "You don't know me!" And he swaggered masterfully away to meet the foe. Mrs. Pigott proved, of course, right. Ruth's simplicity and beauty were altogether too much for the susceptible old man. He put up no real fight at all; but after a little bluff and bounce surrendered unconditionally with a good many loud words to salve his conscience and cover his defeat. "It's only postponing the evil day, I'm afraid," he said; but he agreed to take the sinner back at a lower wage to do a more menial job--if he'd come. "He'll come, sir," said Ruth. "He's humble. I will say that for Ern." "Send him to me," said the old schoolmaster threateningly. "I'll dress him down. What he wants is to get religion."