Milly kept silent a bit, but he knew by her calm breathing that she weren’t going to throw the house out of windows over it, or make a scene.  In fact, she’d never been known to make a scene in all her life and weren’t likely to begin now.

She spoke at last.

“There’s some women would be a good bit put about to hear these things, Jo,” she said, and he granted the truth of it.

“I can’t call home one but yourself as wouldn’t,” he said, “but you are the top flower in the basket of women at Thorpe-Michael, and have got intellects and the wit to see ’twas nothing but my great passion for you as led me into this mess.  And though business is business and no man can ever say I drew back in a bargain, yet I’ve got a good bit enraged with William lately, and I feel ’tis more’n time this here compounded interest come to an end.”

“How much have he had?” asked Milly, and Jonas gave her the figures, which was branded in letters of fire on his mind, so to say.

“Five hundred and seventy-eight,” he said, “and still he’s got the front to swear I owe him near two more hundred.”

“I’ve puzzled sometimes where your money was going,” she told him, “but, knowing you, I well understood ’twas safe.”

“Thank God you came to the task with your usual high courage and sense,” he answered.  “And thank God, also, that you think none the worse of me.  And don’t you imagine I grudge the money itself.  On the low level of cash you was worth the Mint of England ten times over; but the question afore me is, looking at my deal with William as a money bargain between man and man, whether he ain’t going a bit over and beyond doing me in the eye.”

“I reckon he is,” said Milly.  “Five hundred and seventy-eight’s enough, Jo, and I’m proud, in a manner of speaking, you could rise it.  I’m very fortunate in having you for a husband, because the man wasn’t born to suit me better; and I should never have neighboured with William so fine as what I have done with you.  But you was fortunate, too, in finding a chap as would take cash for what you was so willing to buy.”

“I was,” he granted.  “Providence never done any member of my family such a turn as it done me when it sent you to my roof; but, outside that, touching William Bird, I be growing to feel—­However, if you say ’Go on paying, William,’ I’ll do so very well content; but if, on the other hand, you reckon that the man’s Jewing me and did ought to be spoke to, then I’ll be still better content.”

“He shall be spoke to,” she answered, “and I’ll speak to him.  We are very good friends and I’m sorry for him, because he’s drawn a blank; and I’ve noticed, now and again, he’s looked at me as if he was a good bit vexed we ever parted.  And no doubt he’s had queer thoughts and weighed his money against me and wondered whether it has served him better than what I should.”

“Damn queer thoughts, I’ll lay my life,” said Jonas.  “And I’m sorry for him, also as a Christian man, because he’s quite clever enough to know what he’s lost, and the bitterness no doubt runs into my compound interest.”