Mr. Barracombe’s eyes twinkled.  He glanced at Kate, and said—­

“Your name is B-B—­”

“Barton, sir; Firtop Farm, Mottisfont.”

“What is this b-b-bill for d-d-damages you speak of?”

“Why, sir, ’twas like this.  Last Thursday night as was, I was just a-strippin’ off my coat to go to bed when I heard a randy of a noise out-along, and my dogs set up a-barkin’, and goin’ to look, there was a airyplane had shoved hisself into my hayrick, and a young feller a-splutterin’ and hollerin’, and usin’ all manner of heathen language to my dog.  He cooled down arter a bit, when I’d spoke to him pretty straight, axin’ who’d pay for the mess he’d made, and he went down-along to village, sayin’ he’d take a bed there for hisself and his man, and pay me what was fair.  Drown me if he wasn’t back in half-an-hour, all of a heat, tellin’ me in a commandin’ way—­being an officer by what he said—­to pull down my fence and help him hoist that airyplane on to the road.  I wouldn’t stir a finger till he’d promised faithful to pay, not me; then we worked me and some labourin’ men he brought, till we was all of a sweat, and we got the dratted thing out, and off she went, whizzin’ and buzzin’ in a way I never did see.  Come mornin’ I took a look at things, and there was half my hay not worth a cuss for horse or ass, and thirty feet of fence fit for nowt but firewood.  ‘Send in your bill,’ says he, and send it I did, and neither song nor sixpence have I got for it.  Thinks I, I’ll go and see if he give me a right name and address, and a mighty moil ’twas to find the place, and no train back till mornin’, and my wife don’t know where I be.”

“Very annoying.  What’s the amount of your b-b-bill?”

“Here it be.  Cast your eye on it, sir.  I ain’t overcharged a penny.”

He handed Mr. Barracombe a soiled paper folded many times—­“To damage to hay, repairing fence, and cleaning up, L4 2_s_ 4-1/2_d_.”

“What’s the ha’penny?” asked Mr. Barracombe.

“I never thowt there’d be any question of a ha’penny, drown me if I did.  The ha’penny be for the ball of twine we used to get fence straight.  I didn’t want it set up all crissmacross, mind ’ee, and you have to draw a line same as when you’re plantin’ ’taties.”

“Well, Mr. B-B-Barton, I’m sorry Mr. Smith isn’t at home, but the f-fact is he’s been for a voyage round the world, and won’t be home till eleven.”

“That’s a good ’un.  Round the world!  Why, I tell ’ee this was only a se’nnight ago.  I seed him myself.  He couldn’t get a half nor a quarter round the world in the time.  My son Jock be a sailor, and he don’t do it under six months.  That won’t wash with Isaac Barton.  No, no, if he’ll be home at eleven he hain’t been round the world.  Anyway, I’ll bide till he comes.  I dussn’t show my face to home without L4 2_s._ 4-1/2_d._, railway fare extry.”

“If that’s the case I’d b-better p-p-pay you myself.  Mr. Smith will settle with me.  Here’s a f-f-five-pound note:  that will pay your b-b-bill and your f-fare, and leave something over for a b-bed in the village if you can’t get home to-night.”