"I am the landlord of Glory—Mehalah, you call her. The Ray, which is their farm, belongs to me, with all the marshes and the saltings, and all that thereon is. I bought it for eight hundred pounds. Glory and her mother are mine."
"I don't understand you."
"I bought the land, and the farm, and them, a job lot, for eight hundred pounds."
"I remember the girl—I forget her name, but I have it here, written down"
"Glory!"
"No, not that, Mehalah. I wish you wouldn't call her what she is not, because it confuses me; and I have had a deal to confuse me lately. Marriage does rummage a man's hold up so. Mehalah came here a few weeks back to ask me to lend her some money, as her mother could not pay the rent. Her mother is my cousin, Liddy Vince that was; I used to call her ‘Pretty Liddy,’ or Lydia Languish, after a character in a play, because of her ague, and because she sort of languished of love for me. And I don't deny it, I was sweet on her once, but the ague shivers stood in the way of our love waxing wery hot."
"You lent her the money."
"I—I" hesitated Mr. Pettican. "You see how I am circumstanced, my wife"
"You lent her the money. Mistress Sharland told me so."
"She did!" exclaimed Pettican in surprise.
"Yes, she did. Now I want to know, will you do that again? I am landlord. I bought the Ray for eight hundred pounds, and I don't want to drop my money without a return. You understand that. A man doesn't want to give his gold away, and be whined out of getting interest for it by an old shivering, chattering woman, and flouted out of it by a devil of a girl." His hands clenched fiercely.
"Of course, of course," said the cripple. "I understand you. You think those two can't manage the farm, and were better out of it."
"I want to be sure of my money," said Elijah, knitting his dark brows, and fixing his eyes intently on Pettican.
