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 have gone very badly with me the past year. I have notes to meet. Expenses are devilishly high. It takes a pile of money just to pay the men's wages. Of course, last year was exceptional. Everything went against me. It will probably never happen again. As a matter of fact, I can see the day approaching when Durras will flourish and repay me all the money I have put in it. In the meantime—" he gave his confident smile—"I thank God I have a good friend who comes to my assistance."

"Mr. Jerrold," said Derek, "I wish you would get rid of Hobbs. I don't think he is the best man for this place. He talks impressively, and he understands his work, I grant, but he spends a great deal of time on the road driving that fast white horse, or boasting about his achievements at the Duke of York. Mrs. Machin says—oh, well, you needn't laugh, she's a pretty shrewd old head—she says that you could do with far fewer men; and you told me yourself that a carload of your apples went to waste last year, and you lost Count Robert because Hobbs didn't send for the vet in time. I hope you don't mind my talking like this."

A shadow flitted over Mr. Jerrold's vigorous, sanguine face. "No, no. I don't mind a bit. It's true, too, what you say. But, look here, Vale, are you under the impression that Hobbs is a poor man? That seems a ridiculous question . . . the truth is . . . oh, Lord! I've borrowed money from the man. An uncle died in the Old Country two years ago. Left him rich. I haven't borrowed a little. I've borrowed a lot." He stood shamefaced, like a boy who has made confession, hitting his leg with the stick he carried.

Derek was aghast. "Why did Hobbs stay on then—after the fortune was left him?"

"I don't know. Said he liked the job. Hopes some day perhaps—well, he's a fool. I'll pay him off very soon and