Hornblower.  Look here, Hillcrist, ye’ve not had occasion to understand men like me.  I’ve got the guts, and I’ve got the money; and I don’t sit still on it.  I’m going ahead because I believe in meself.  I’ve no use for sentiment and that sort of thing.  Forty of your Jackmans aren’t worth me little finger.

Hillcrist. [Angry] Of all the blatant things I ever heard said!

Hornblower.  Well, as we’re speaking plainly, I’ve been thinkin’.  Ye want the village run your oldfashioned way, and I want it run mine.  I fancy there’s not room for the two of us here.

Mrs. H. When are you going?

Hornblower.  Never fear, I’m not going.

Hillcrist. Look here, Mr. Hornblower—­this infernal gout makes me irritable—­puts me at a disadvantage.  But I should be glad if you’d kindly explain yourself.

Hornblower. [With a great smile] Ca’ canny; I’m fra’ the North.

Hillcrist. I’m told you wish to buy the Centry and put more of your chimneys up there, regardless of the fact [He Points through the window] that it would utterly ruin the house we’ve had for generations, and all our pleasure here.

Hornblower.  How the man talks!  Why!  Ye’d think he owned the sky, because his fathers built him a house with a pretty view, where he’s nothing to do but live.  It’s sheer want of something to do that gives ye your fine sentiments, Hillcrist.

Hillcrist. Have the goodness not to charge me with idleness.  Dawker—­where is he?——­[He shows the bureau] When you do the drudgery of your works as thoroughly as I do that of my estate——­ Is it true about the Centry?

Hornblower.  Gospel true.  If ye want to know, my son Chearlie is buyin’ it this very minute.

Mrs. H. [Turning with a start] What do you say?

Hornblower.  Ay, he’s with the old lady she wants to sell, an’ she’ll get her price, whatever it is.

Hillcrist. [With deep anger] If that isn’t a skin game, Mr. Hornblower, I don’t know what is.

Hornblower.  Ah!  Ye’ve got a very nice expression there.  “Skin game!” Well, bad words break no bones, an’ they’re wonderful for hardenin’ the heart.  If it wasn’t for a lady’s presence, I could give ye a specimen or two.

Mrs. H. Oh!  Mr. Hornblower, that need not stop you, I’m sure.

Hornblower.  Well, and I don’t know that it need.  Ye’re an obstruction—­the like of you—­ye’re in my path.  And anyone in my path doesn’t stay there long; or, if he does, he stays there on my terms.  And my terms are chimneys in the Centry where I need ’em.  It’ll do ye a power of good, too, to know that ye’re not almighty.

Hillcrist. And that’s being neighbourly!