“I’ve been reading one o’ your books, lass,” he began, with superb amiability.  “It’s pretty near as good as a newspaper.  There’s summat about a law case as goes on for ever.  It isna’ true, I suppose, but it might be.  The man as wrote that knew what he was talking about for once in a way.  It’s rare and good.”

“You mean Jarndyce v.  Jarndyce?” she said, with a smile—­not one of her condescending smiles.

“Ay,” he said, “I believe that is the name.  How didst know, lass?”

“I just guessed,” she answered.  “I suppose you don’t have much time for reading, uncle?”

“Not me!” said he.  “I’m one o’ th’ busiest men in Bosley.  And if ye don’t know it now, you will afore long.”

“Oh!” she cried, “I’ve noticed that.  But what can you expect?  With all those rents to collect yourself!  Of course, I think you’re quite right to collect them yourself.  Rent-collectors can soon ruin a property.”  Her tone was exceedingly sympathetic and comprehending.  He was both surprised and pleased by it.  He had misjudged her mood.  It was certainly comfortable to have a young woman in the house who understood things as she did.

“Ye’re right, lass,” he said.  “It’s small houses as mean trouble.  You’re never done—­wi’ cottage property.  Always summat!”

“It’s all small, isn’t it?” she went on.  “About how much do the rents average?  Three-and-six a week?”

“About that,” he said.  She was a shrewd guesser.

“I can’t imagine how you carry the money about,” she exclaimed.  “It must be very heavy for you.”

“I’ll tell you,” he explained.  “I’ve got my own system o’ collecting.  If I hadn’t, I couldna’ get through.  In each street I’ve one tenant as I trust.  And the other tenants can leave their rent and their rent books there.  When they do that regular for a month, I give ’em twopence apiece for their children.  If they do it regular for a year, I mak’ ’em a present of a wik’s rent at Christmas.  It’s cheaper nor rent-collectors.”

“What a good idea!” she said, impressed.  “But how do you carry the money about?”

“I bank i’ Bosley, and I bank i’ Turnhill, too.  And I bank once i’ Bosley and twice i’ Turnhill o’ Mondays, and twice i’ Bosley o’ Tuesdays.  Only yesterday I was behind.  I reckon as I can do all my collecting between nine o’clock Monday and noon Tuesday.  I go to th’ worst tenants first—­be sure o’ that.  There’s some o’ ’em, if you don’t catch ’em early o’ Monday, you don’t catch ’em at all.”

“It’s incredible to me how you can do it all in a day and a half,” she pursued.  “Why, how many houses are there?”

“Near two hundred and forty i’ Bosley,” he responded.  “Hast forgotten th’ sugar this time, lass?”

“And in Turnhill?” she said, passing the sugar.  “I think I’ll have that piece of bacon if you don’t want it.”

“Over a hundred,” said he.  “A hundred and twenty.”