Mrs. H. What’s it worth, Dawker?

Dawker.  Depends on what you want it for.

Mrs. H. He wants it for spite; we want it for sentiment.

Dawker. [Grinning] Worth what you like to give, then; but he’s a rich man.

Mrs. H. Intolerable!

Dawker. [To Hillcrist] Give me your figure, sir.  I’ll try the old lady before he gets at her.

Hillcrist. [Pondering] I don’t want to buy, unless there’s nothing else for it.  I should have to raise the money on the estate; it won’t stand much more.  I can’t believe the fellow would be such a barbarian.  Chimneys within three hundred yards, right in front of this house!  It’s a nightmare.

Mrs. H. You’d much better let Dawker make sure, Jack.

Hillcrist. [Uncomfortable] Jackman says Hornblower’s coming round to see me.  I shall put it to him.

Dawker.  Make him keener than ever.  Better get in first.

Hillcrist. Ape his methods!—­Ugh!  Confound this gout! [He gets back to his chair with difficulty] Look here, Dawker, I wanted to see you about gates——­

Fellows. [Entering] Mr. Hornblower.

[Hornblower enters-a man of medium, height, thoroughly broadened, blown out, as it were, by success.  He has thick, coarse, dark hair, just grizzled, wry bushy eyebrow, a wide mouth.  He wears quite ordinary clothes, as if that department were in charge of someone who knew about such, things.  He has a small rose in his buttonhole, and carries a Homburg hat, which one suspects will look too small on his head.]

Hornblower.  Good morning! good morning!  How are ye, Dawker?  Fine morning!  Lovely weather!

     [His voice has a curious blend in its tone of brass and oil,
     and an accent not quite Scotch nor quite North country.]

Haven’t seen ye for a long time, Hillcrist.

Hillcrist. [Who has risen] Not since I sold you Longmeadow and those cottages, I believe.

Hornblower.  Dear me, now! that’s what I came about.

Hillcrist. [Subsiding again into his chair] Forgive me!  Won’t you sit down?

Hornblower. [Not sitting] Have ye got gout?  That’s unfortunate.  I never get it.  I’ve no disposition that way.  Had no ancestors, you see.  Just me own drinkin’ to answer for.

Hillcrist. You’re lucky.

Hornblower.  I wonder if Mrs. Hillcrist thinks that!  Am I lucky to have no past, ma’am?  Just the future?

Mrs. H. You’re sure you have the future, Mr. Hornblower?

Hornblower. [With a laugh] That’s your aristocratic rapier thrust.  You aristocrats are very hard people underneath your manners.  Ye love to lay a body out.  But I’ve got the future all right.