'Acton's cottage' is a proverb; and Roger there can want for nothing honestly; nevertheless, as I know your honour's good heart, and wish to make all happy, if you will suffer me to see to it myself--" "Certainly, Jennings, do, do by all means, and thank you: here, just to make a beginning, as we're all so jolly at the Hall, and that poor fellow's up to his neck in mud, give him this from me to drink my health with." Acton, who had dutifully held aloof, and kept on digging steadily, was still quite near enough to hear all this; at the magical word "give," he looked up hurriedly, and saw Sir John Vincent toss a piece of gold--yes, on his dying oath, a bright new sovereign--to Simon Jennings.

O blessed vision, and gold was to be his at last! "Come along, Mynton; Hunt, now mind you try and lame that big beast of a raw-boned charger among these gutters, will you?
I'm off, Jennings; meet me, do you hear, at the Croft to-mor--" So the three friends galloped away; and John Vincent really felt more light-hearted and happy than at any time the week past, for having so properly got rid of a welcome bit of gold.
"Roger Acton! come up here, sir, out of that ditch: his honour has been liberal enough to give you a shilling to drink his health with." "A shilling, Muster Jennings ?" said the poor astonished man; "why I'll make oath it was a pound; I saw it myself.

Come, Muster Jennings, don't break jokes upon a poor man's back." "Jokes, Acton?
sticks, sir, if you say another word: take John Vincent's shilling." "Oh, sir!" cried Roger, quite unmanned at this most cruel disappointment; "be merciful--be generous--give me my gold, my own bit of gold! I'll swear his honour gave it for me: blessings on his head! You know he did, Mr.Simon; don't play upon me!" "Play upon you ?--generous--your gold--what is it you mean, man?
We'll have no madmen about us, I can tell you; take the shilling, or else--" "'Rob not the poor, because he is poor, for the Lord shall plead his cause,'" was the solemn answer.
"Roger Acton!"-- the bailiff gave a scared start, as usual, and, recovering himself, looked both white and stern: "you have dared to quote the Bible against me: deeply shall you rue it.

Begone, man! your work on this estate is at an end.".