Basil had indeed pressing reasons for dispensing with Mr. Philpott's further services. The larger expenses of the last few weeks had brought his funds to a very low ebb. He took out his purse and counted his worldly wealth; it amounted to less than two pounds. He was standing at poverty's door. In Australia, on the goldfields, it would not have mattered so much. Earnest labour there can always ensure at least food for the passing day; it is only the idle and dissolute and men without a backbone who have to endure hunger; but here in this overcrowded city hunger is no rare experience to those who are willing to toil. Needless to say that the watch and chain which had been presented to Basil in Princetown was no longer in Basil's possession. The prospect before him, physically and morally, was appalling.
There was a gentle knock at the door. "Come in," said Basil, and Mrs. Philpott entered the room.
"My husband tells me you wish to see me, sir," said the landlady.
"Take a seat, Mrs. Philpott," said Basil. "I hope you have brought your weekly account; you should have given it to me yesterday."
"Friday's an unlucky day, sir," said Mrs. Philpott, fencing.
"But to-day is Saturday," said Basil, with a smile.
"There's no hurry, sir, I assure you."
Basil looked at her and shook his head. His look, and the weary, mournful expression on his face, brought tears to the good creature's eyes.
"I must insist upon having the account, Mrs. Philpott."
"Well, sir, if you insist," said Mrs. Philpott, reduced to helplessness; "it is only the rent, seven shillings."