Coals of Fire
by
“I AM sorry, Mr. Grasper, that you should have felt it necessary to proceed to extremities against me,” said a care-worn, anxious-looking man, as he entered the store of a thrifty dealer in tapes, needles, and sundry small wares, drawing aside, as he spoke, the personage he addressed. “There was no need of this.”
“There’s where you and I differ, Mr. Layton,” replied Grasper, rudely. “The account has been standing nearly a year, and I have dunned you for it until I am sick and tired.”
“I know you have waited a long time for your money,” returned the debtor, humbly, “but not, I assure you, because I felt indifferent about paying i the bill. I am most anxious to settle it, and would do so this hour, if I had the ability.”
“I can’t lie out of my money in this way, Mr. Layton. If everybody kept me out of my just dues as long as you have, where do you think I would be? Not in this store, doing as good a business as any one in the street, (Grasper drew himself up with an air of consequence,) but coming out at the little end of the horn, as some of my neighbours are. I pay every man his just dues, and it is but right that every man should pay me.”
“Where there is a willingness, without present ability, some allowances should be made.”
“Humph! I consider a willingness to pay me my own, a very poor substitute for the money.”
There was an insulting rudeness in the way Grasper uttered this last sentence, that made the honest blood boil in the veins of his unfortunate debtor. He was tempted to utter a keen rebuke in reply, but restrained himself, and simply made answer:
“Good intentions, I know, are not money. Still, they should be considered as some extenuation in a debtor, and at least exempt him from unnecessarily harsh treatment. No man can tell how it may be with him in the course of a few years, and that, if nothing else, should make every one as lenient towards the unfortunate as possible.”
“If you mean to insinuate by that,” replied Grasper, in a quick voice, “that I am likely to be in your situation in a few years, I must beg leave to say that I consider your remarks as little better than an insult. It’s enough, let me tell you, for you to owe me and not pay me, without coming into my store to insult me. If you have nothing better to say, I see no use in our talking any longer.” And Grasper made a motion to turn from his debtor. But the case of Layton was too urgent to let him act as his indignant feelings prompted.
“I meant no offence, I assure you, Mr. Grasper,” he said, earnestly,–“I only urged one among many reasons that I could urge, why you should spare a man in my situation.”
“While I have as many to urge why I shall not spare you,” was angrily retorted. “Your account is sued out, and must take its course, unless you can pay it, or give the required security under the law.”
“Won’t you take my notes at three, six, nine, and twelve months, for the whole amount I owe you? I am very confident that I can pay you in that time; if not, you may take any steps you please, and I will not say a single word.”
“Yes, if you will give me a good endorser.”
Layton sighed, and stood silent for some time.
“Will that suit you?” said Grasper.
“I am afraid not. I have never asked for an endorser in my life, and do not know any one who would be willing to go on my paper.”
“Well, just as you like. I shall not give up the certainty of a present legal process, for bits of paper with your name on them, you may depend upon it.”