As he stood at the door, he heard the sounds of several voices, high in oath and angry altercation.
He entered quietly, took a seat near the door, and, finding the gentlemen to be creditors like himself, soon took part in their grievances, and opened an extra broadside of abuse upon the unfortunate Sir Andrew McTurk.
Sir Andrew, in his easy chair, one leg over the other, played with his watch-chain and seals in the coolest manner imaginable.
This was one of those occasions in life which “try men’s souls,” and call forth their Christian virtues in bold relief against the revilings of an angry audience.
Sir Andrew’s resignation and Christian forbearance was extraordinary.
He even smiled, as one after another of Mr. Redgill’s creditors grew red in the face, struck the table, and told what they thought of him.
Old Moss, the Jew, was “sitting on thorns,” for he was very uneasy in his chair.
He at last arose, and, approaching the Christian and martyr-like Sir Andrew, he flourished his clenched fist in the face of that meek and smiling gentleman, and said,
“I’ll tell you what I think about you, Sir Andrew McTurk—you are a d—d rogue, sir! and the whole lot of you are a gang of thieves, and ought to be hung, if there was any justice in the world.”
With wonderful forbearance, Sir Andrew listened to all these personal compliments, but at last said, with much mildness,