close, though I hadn’t made out a bill, and I said, ‘One pound thirty.’  That was paying for the mater’als and paying me, but none too much, for my work.  Th’ old squire looked up at this, and peered in his way at the screen, and said, ’One pound thirteen for a gimcrack like that!  Lydia, my dear, if you must spend money on these things, why don’t you get them at Rosseter, instead of paying double price for clumsy work here?  Such things are not work for a carpenter like Adam.  Give him a guinea, and no more.’  Well, Miss Lyddy, I reckon, believed what he told her, and she’s not overfond o’ parting with the money herself—­she’s not a bad woman at bottom, but she’s been brought up under his thumb; so she began fidgeting with her purse, and turned as red as her ribbon.  But I made a bow, and said, ’No, thank you, madam; I’ll make you a present o’ the screen, if you please.  I’ve charged the regular price for my work, and I know it’s done well; and I know, begging His Honour’s pardon, that you couldn’t get such a screen at Rosseter under two guineas.  I’m willing to give you my work—­it’s been done in my own time, and nobody’s got anything to do with it but me; but if I’m paid, I can’t take a smaller price than I asked, because that ’ud be like saying I’d asked more than was just.  With your leave, madam, I’ll bid you good-morning.’  I made my bow and went out before she’d time to say any more, for she stood with the purse in her hand, looking almost foolish.  I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, and I spoke as polite as I could; but I can give in to no man, if he wants to make it out as I’m trying to overreach him.  And in the evening the footman brought me the one pound thirteen wrapped in paper.  But since then I’ve seen pretty clear as th’ old squire can’t abide me.”

“That’s likely enough, that’s likely enough,” said Bartle meditatively.  “The only way to bring him round would be to show him what was for his own interest, and that the captain may do—­that the captain may do.”

“Nay, I don’t know,” said Adam; “the squire’s ’cute enough but it takes something else besides ’cuteness to make folks see what’ll be their interest in the long run.  It takes some conscience and belief in right and wrong, I see that pretty clear.  You’d hardly ever bring round th’ old squire to believe he’d gain as much in a straightfor’ard way as by tricks and turns.  And, besides, I’ve not much mind to work under him:  I don’t want to quarrel with any gentleman, more particular an old gentleman turned eighty, and I know we couldn’t agree long.  If the captain was master o’ th’ estate, it ’ud be different:  he’s got a conscience and a will to do right, and I’d sooner work for him nor for any man living.”