Jope's face clouded.
"Oh," he said, "is that all?"
"It's a fine one, too."
"It'd have to be, to accomydate Bill an' me an' the cask. I wanted a
house, as I thought I told ye."
"Oh, but I meant a country-seat," explained Miss Elizabeth.
"The Rectory is a house."
Again Mr. Jope's face brightened.
"An' so big," she went on, "that the Rector can't afford to live in
it. That's why 'tis to let. The rent's forty pound."
"Can I see him?"
"No, you can't; for he lives up to Lunnon an' hires Parson Spettigew
of Botusfleming to do the work. But it's my father has the lettin'
o' the Rectory if a tenant comes along. He keeps the keys."
"Then I 'd like to talk with your father."
"No you wouldn't," said the girl frankly; "because he's asleep.
Father drinks a quart o' cider at three o'clock every day of his
life, an' no one don't dare disturb him before six."
"Well, I like reggilar habits," said Mr. Jope, diving a hand into his
breeches' pocket and drawing forth a fistful of golden guineas.
"But couldn't you risk it?"
Miss Elizabeth's eyes wavered.
"No, I couldn'," she sighed, shaking her head. "Father's very
violent in his temper.
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