FullReads

CHAPTER I

“WELL, Mr. Tompkins, what do you think about it? I wish you would speak. I’ve been talking at you for full ten blessed minutes, and you haven’t as much as opened your lips in reply.”

“About what?” asked Mr. Tompkins, looking up with an air of surprise.

“About what, indeed!” rejoined the lady, in no very melodious tone. “Why, about that house in Franklin Street, to be sure. What else did you suppose it was?”

“Oh! ah! yes.”

“Mr. Tompkins, why don’t you answer me like a man? Oh! ah! yes! I hate that.”

“Humph!”

“Yes, and I hate that just as bad. But you needn’t think to put me off with a ‘humph!’ Have you made up your mind about buying that house–say?”

“I’ve got to make up my mind about something else first.”

“Indeed! And what is that, pray?”

“About where the money is to come from.”

“Mr. Tompkins, I am out of all patience with you! Its precious little that I ask for, dear knows! But even that little is never granted.”

“If you’ll get me the money, Ellen, I’ll buy the house with pleasure,” returned Mr. Tompkins, in a quiet voice.

“Me! I wonder where I’d get the money? It’s an insult for you to talk to me in this way, when you keep me as poor as a church mouse all the time. Every dollar I get from you is like pulling a tooth.”

“And causes me as much pain, sometimes.”

“I won’t put up with such treatment from you, Mr. Tompkins,” said the good lady, passionately, and walked from the room with a stately step and an effort at dignity. The husband retreated precipitately, and sought his place of business. He sighed as he took his seat upon a counting-house stool at the desk, and commenced turning over the pages of various large account-books. While thus engaged, a person entered his store, and was shown back to that portion of it where he had retired. Mr. Tompkins looked up on hearing his name pronounced, and met the steady eye of one whose presence was not very agreeable to him just at that time.

“Ah, Mr. Wolford! How are you to-day? I am glad to see you,” he said, with an effort to seem pleased and indifferent.

“Very well. How are you?” was the blunt response.

“Take a chair, Mr. Wolford.”

The visitor sat down, with considerable emphasis in his manner, threw one leg over the other, and leaned back in his chair. Tompkins was nervous. His effort to seem at ease led him into overaction.

He smiled, or rather smirked–for a smile is always natural, never forced–and introduced various topics of conversation, one after the other, with the manner of a man whose thoughts were far away from his words, and who yet wished to be very agreeable to a personage from whom he wished a favour.

“What do you think of the news from Washington to-day, Mr. Wolford? Strange doings there!”

“Rather.”

“Our party were completely outgeneralled in that measure.”

“Yes.”

“Bad news from London.”

“Yes, bad enough.”

“It has played the mischief with stocks.”

“Thank fortune, I don’t deal in stocks.”

And thus Tompkins run on, and Wolford replied cold and sententiously for some ten minutes. Then there came a pause, and the two men looked into each other’s faces for a short time, without either of them speaking.

“The year for which I loaned you ten thousand dollars expires next week,” said Wolford, in a quiet tone, breaking the silence.

“Does it?” returned Tompkins, affecting surprise. “I had no idea the time was so near being up. Are you sure?”

“I never make mistakes in such matters, Mr. Tompkins, and can’t understand how other people can.”

“Creditors are said to have better memories than debtors,” replied Tompkins, attempting something like pleasantry.

“Yes–I know. You will, of course, be prepared to take up the mortgage upon your property?”

“I am afraid not, Mr. Wolford. Money is exceedingly tight. But as your security is perfectly good, and you do not want the money, you will let the matter remain as it is for a little while longer?”