"Only ten! what a way to speak of money! Wait, sir, wait; let us see what we can do. Any one likely to look in this afternoon to pay any interest, Jinks?"
"Too late now!" said Jinks, with brevity.
"Ah! too late--I dessay! Just look in the cash-box, Jinks, and see what's there; though I'm afraid it's not much. I should say there wasn't more than three pounds, Jinks!"
Mr. Jinks peered into a little cash-box on the desk before him, and answered, "Just three pound!"
"Ah! bring 'em out, Jinks; give 'em here. Let's see--ten and three's thirteen; and that only leaves me seven-and-six to go on with till Monday! Never mind: you could have thirteen, Mr.--"
"But I want twenty!"
"Ah, so you do! Pity you don't want some wine! I've got some Madeiry as would--but wine ain't money, is it? There's a splendid picture, now--a Murillo: you might take that."
"Pictures are not more money than wine; are they?"
"Ain't they? That Murillo's worth ten pound, and any one would give you that for it. Ain't there no one you could sell it to? You see you're in such a hurry for the money, or you might offer it to the National Gallery, or some swell collecting of pictures might buy it, but you're so pressed. Tell you what you might do, though," said Mr. Scadgers, as though struck by a sudden inspiration: "you might pawn it."
"How the deuce could I go lugging that picture about the streets to pawn it?" said Pringle testily.