"Two horses and a dog!" repeated Mr. Scadgers. "There's some mistake, miss; my name's Scadgers."
"Lord, that is a good 'un!" said Kate, dropping the whip and clapping her hands in an ecstasy of laughter. "I thought you were the man about the taxes that I've sent for to come to me, too. So your name's Scadgers, is it? I've heard of you, sir; you get your living in a queer way."
"Pretty much the same as you and the rest of the world, I believe," said Scadgers, pleasantly;--"by the weakness of human natur'!"
"Which you take a pretty considerable advantage of, eh?"
"Well, I don't know: a gent wants money and he hears I've got it, and he comes to me for it. I don't seek him,--he seeks me; I tell him what he'll have to pay for it, and he agrees. He has the money, and he don't return it; and when he goes through the Court and it all comes out, people cry, 'Oh, Scadgers again! oh, the bloodsucker! here's iniquity!' and all the rest of the gammon. If people wants luxuries, miss, they must pay for 'em, as you know well enough."
This was not said in the least offensively, but in a quiet earnest manner, as though the man had real belief in what he stated, and saw no harm in the calling he was defending. Kate, who had a pretty shrewd knowledge of character, saw this at once, and felt more kindly disposed to her new acquaintance than she had at first.
"Well," she said, "what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, they say; and it's not my business to preach to you, and you wouldn't heed it it I did. I got you to come here on business. You hold some acceptances of Mr. James Prescott's?"
"That's true, miss; I've got 'em here in my pocketbook."
"What's the amount?"
"The total, one seventy-five; cab-hire and loss of time, say one seventy-five ten six."