“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
   Bless the bed that I lie on,
   Four cornders to my bed,
   Four angels overspread
   Two tu foot an’ two tu head,
   An’ all to carry me when I’m dead. 
   An’ when I’m dead an’ in my graave,
     An’ all my bones be rotten. 
   The greedy worms my flaish shall ate,
     An’ I shall be forgotten;
       For Christ’s sake.  Amen.”

Having sucked from repetition of this ancient twaddle exactly that sort of satisfaction the French or Roman peasant wins from a babble of a dead language over beads, Billy retired with many a grunt and sigh of satisfaction.

“It do hearten the spirit to come direct to the Throne,” he reflected; “an’ the wonder is how ever I could fare for near two year wi’out my prayers.  Yet, though I got my monkey up an’ let Jehovah slide, He knawed of my past gudeness, all set down in the Book o’ Life.  An’ now I’ve owned up as I was wrong; which is all even the saints can do; ’cause Judgment Day, for the very best of us, will awnly be a matter o’ owning up.”

CHAPTER XIV

A HUNDRED POUNDS

The maddening recollection of things done wrought upon Clement Hicks until it bred in him a distracted frenzy and blinded his judgment.  He lost all sense of proportion in his endeavour to come at a right course of action, and a mind long inclined towards one road now readily drifted upon it.  To recover the position had been quite possible, and there were not wanting those ready and eager to assist him; but at this crisis in his fortune the man lost all power of reflection or self-control.  The necessity for instant action clamoured to him through daylight and darkness; delay drove him hourly into a hysterical condition approaching frenzy, and every road to escape save one appeared bolted and barred against him.  But, try as he might, his miseries could not be hidden, and Will Blanchard, among others, sympathised very heartily with the great disappointment that had now fallen upon Chris and her sweetheart.  His sister’s attitude had astonished both him and his mother.  They fancied that Blanchards were made of sterner stuff; but Chris went down before the blow in a manner very unexpected.  She seemed dazed and unable to recover from it.  Her old elastic spirit was crushed, and a great sorrow looked from her eyes.

Neither Will nor her mother could rouse her, and so it came about that thinking how best he could play a brother’s part, the master of Newtake decided on a notable deed and held that the hour for it must be delayed no longer.  He debated the circumstance from every point of view, examined his accounts, inspected the exact figures represented by the remainder of his uncle’s legacy and then broke the matter to Phoebe.  To his mother he had already spoken concerning the intention, and she approved it, though without knowing particulars.  Phoebe, however,