Five carries it.

Dozen and half per tailor, per annum--that's the limit.' It was certainly a very hot day.

The pores of his skin were prickling, and his face was fiery; and yet he increased his pace, and broke into a wild gallop for a mile or so; then suddenly turned his horse's head back for Beckley.

The secret of which evolution was, that he had caught the idea of a plotted insult of Laxley's in the letter, for when the blood is up we are drawn the way the tide sets strongest, and Evan was prepared to swear that Laxley had written the letter, because he was burning to chastise the man who had injured him with Rose.
Sure that he was about to confirm his suspicion, he read it again, gazed upon Beckley Court in the sultry light, and turned for Fallow field once more, devising to consult Mr.John Raikes on the subject.
The letter had a smack of crabbed age hardly counterfeit.

The savour of an old eccentric's sour generosity was there.