“Indeed then, sir, I can’t tell you a word about it.”

“I’ve been told that he has taken Lord Rufford’s money.”

“He ain’t ’a taken no money as I’ve seed, sir.  I wish he had, for money’s sore wanted here, and if the gen’leman has a mind to be kind-hearted—­” Then she intimated her own readiness to take any contribution to the good cause which the Senator might be willing to make at that moment.  But the Senator buttoned up his breeches pockets with stern resolution.  Though he still believed Lord Rufford to be altogether wrong, he was beginning to think that the Goarlys were not worthy his benevolence.  As she came to the door with them and accompanied them a few yards across the field she again told the tragic tale of her goose;—­but the Senator had not another word to say to her.

On that same day Morton drove Mr. Gotobed into Dillsborough and consented to go with him to Mr. Bearside’s office.  They found the attorney at home, and before anything was said as to payment they heard his account of the action.  If Goarly had consented to take any money from Lord Rufford he knew nothing about it.  As far as he was aware the action was going on.  Ever so many witnesses must be brought from a distance who had seen the crop standing and who would have no bias against the owner,—­as would be the case with neighbours, such as Lawrence Twentyman.  Of course it was not easy to oppose such a man as Lord Rufford and a little money must be spent.  Indeed such, he said, was his interest in the case that he had already gone further than he ought to have done out of his own pocket.  Of course they would be successful,—­that is if the matter were carried on with spirit, and then the money would all come back again.  But just at present a little money must be spent.  “I don’t mean to spend it,” said the Senator.

“I hope you won’t stick to that, Mr. Gotobed.”

“But I shall, sir.  I understand from your letter that you look to me for funds.”

“Certainly I do, Mr. Gotobed; because you told me to do so.”

“I told you nothing of the kind, Mr. Bearside.”

“You paid me 15 pounds on account, Mr. Gotobed.”

“I paid you 15 pounds certainly.”

“And told me that more should be coming as it was wanted.  Do you think I should have gone on for such a man as Goarly,—­a fellow without a shilling,—­unless he had some one like you to back him?  It isn’t likely.  Now, Mr. Morton, I appeal to you.”

“I don’t suppose that my friend has made himself liable for your bill because he paid you 15 pounds with the view of assisting Goarly,” said Morton.

“But he said that he meant to go on, Mr. Morton, He said that plain, and I can swear it.  Now, Mr, Gotobed, you just say out like an honest man whether you didn’t give me to understand that you meant to go on.”

“I never employed you or made myself responsible for your bill.”

“You authorized me, distinctly,—­most distinctly, and I shall stick to it.  When a gentleman comes to a lawyer’s office and pays his money and tells that lawyer as how he means to see the case out,—­ explaining his reasons as you did when you said all that against the landlords and squires and nobility of this here country,—­why then that lawyer has a right to think that that gentleman is his mark.”