She had as yet no fear of him, though he was afraid of her.  But at sight of him as he entered, all the joy went out of her announcement.

He listened sulkily, took the receipt, and muttered some ungracious thanks.  Old Matthew eyed him queerly, and, catching a whiff of brandy, pulled out his gold watch.  The action may have been involuntary.  The hour was half-past ten in the morning.

“Well, well—­I must be going.  Excuse me, nephew Wright; with my experience I ought to have known better than to withdraw a busy man from his work.”

He glanced at Hetty, with a look which as good as asked leave for a few words with her in private.  But Mr. Wright, now thoroughly suspicious, did not choose to be dismissed in this fashion.  So after a minute or two of uneasy talk the old man pulled out his watch again, excused himself, and took his departure.

“Look here,” began Mr. Wright when he and Hetty were left alone:  “You are taking too much on yourself.”

He had never spoken to her quite so harshly.

“I am sorry, William,” she answered, keeping her tears well under control.  For months she had been planning her little surprise, and its failure hurt her cruelly.  “I had no thought of displeasing you.”

“Oh, I daresay you meant it for the best.  But I choose to be master in my own house, that’s all.  Another time, if you have more money than you know what to do with, just come and consult me.  I’ve no notion of being made to look small before your uncle, and I don’t stomach it.”

He turned away growling.  He had spoken only of the repaid loan, but they both knew that this had nothing to do with his ill temper.

At the door he faced round again.  “What were you talking about when I came in?” he asked suspiciously.

“Uncle was congratulating us.  He is delighted to know that the business is doing so well and complains that he seldom gets sight of you nowadays, your hands are so full.”

“And pray what the devil has it to do with him, how I spend my time?” He pulled himself up on the oath, and seeing her cheek flush, he too reddened, but went on, if anything, more violently.  “You’ve a trick in your family of putting your fingers into other folks’ pies:  you’re known for it.  There’s that Holy Club I hear about.  Your clever brothers can’t be content, any more than your father, to let honest folks alone, but are for setting right the whole University of Oxford.  I warn you, that won’t do with me.  ‘Live and let live’ is my motto:  let me alone and I’ll let you alone.  You Wesleys think mightily of yourselves; but you’re neither king nor Parlyment, and that I’ll have you learn.”

It was not a dignified exit and he knew it:  by brooding over it through the afternoon his temper grew more savage.  That evening he spent at the “Turk’s Head” and slouched home at midnight divided between contrition and bravado.