Jabez stood and looked at him steadily for a full minute.
“I must go,” said Tommy. “I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”
“Wait a minute”; and Jabez impressively drew a great wallet from an inner pocket. “You seem t’ fergit thet I’ve got somethin’ t’ say about this—thet I’ve got an int’rust in y’.” He opened the wallet and selected a strip of paper from the mass of documents with which it was crammed. “D’ y’ know what this is?” he asked, holding it out.
Tommy glanced at it, and blushed to his ears.
“Yes, sir, I know. It’s my note for three hundred dollars. That’s another reason I must get to work. I think I can pay you two dollars a week on it.”
But Jabez stopped him again.
“Who said anything about pay?” he demanded savagely. “I’m a business man. I’ve lent you this money at five per cent.—a good int’rust. I’d counted on keepin’ it out six or eight year anyway, an’ six hunderd dollars more on th’ same terms. What right ’ve you got t’ upset all them calcerlations?”
Tommy stared at him aghast. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Mr. Smith was mad.
“Oh, I can’t take any more of your money,” he faltered. “It’s not business.”
“It ain’t?” repeated Jabez, with fine irony. “What d’ y’ know about it? I say it is business.”